The Seeds of Destiny
by blubs73
Summary: Darien is injured while working a case for F&G. Another agency think this is one close call too many on one pointless assignment too many, and decide it's time to take the I-Man into their own 'protective custody'. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

**The Seeds of Destiny**

**Chapter One**

A wise person who chose to remain unknown once wrote: _"You often meet your destiny on the road you've taken to avoid it."_

Well, it seems to me that my destiny was sealed one way or another the moment I got the gland put in my head. My fucked-up life as a career thief and soon-to-be life long resident of the Federal State Penitentiary ended on that August day, and a whole different one started which involved mad scientists, even madder terrorists, assassins, kidnappers, mermaids and, of course, an under-funded, under-staffed top secret government agency.

Do I miss my old life? Well, if I'm honest not that much any more, and this is mostly due to my friends - with special mention to the small, but beautifully formed Robert A. Hobbes, who I trust with my life, and to my Keeper, Claire, a fair English maiden who always comes through for me and who I love, just a little bit.

But just because I don't miss my old life that doesn't necessarily mean I always enjoy the new one.

See, one of the problems with working for the Agency is that every now and then our current sponsors – The Department of Fish and Game - expect a little something back for their money. This usually results in me and Hobbes going undercover to catch some monkey-nappers red handed, or tracking down stolen golden eagle eggs….that sort of stuff. So our latest case seemed pretty routine, an early morning stake-out near San Diego airport, and then bust a gang smuggling in a crate of exotic birds from South America. Who could've guessed that one of them, a little weasel of a guy, would pack a piece or that he would actually draw and fire it…at me!

It missed doing any serious damage by a couple of inches, thanks to Bobby Hobbes' incredible reflexes. Man, for a little guy he can move damn fast! Bobby tried to shove me out the way just as the mad, bad bird smuggler let loose a couple of rounds, but not before I caught a bullet in the left shoulder. According to Claire it passed all the way through. Jeez it hurt like hell!

You know when you watch a western on TV, and a dude - usually the shifty looking outlaw with the black Stetson - gets shot by one of the good guys, but somehow manages to stagger to his feet just in time for the final shootout? Well, forget it. If you ever get shot you'll know what I mean. When you go down, man you stay down. And it bleeds big time.

No ER for me cause as usual The Official wouldn't consider letting a lowly member of the medical profession tend to his I-Man, not without the proper security clearance anyway. So back at The Keep, Claire cleaned and stitched the wound and took good care of me as always. After bandaging my shoulder and prescribing some strong painkillers and a freakin' huge shot of antibiotic, she reluctantly agreed that Hobbes could take me home. It took a lot of persuading though as she really wanted me to spend the night in Lab 3. In the end I had to resort to a little whining and then the ole puppy dog look. I'm actually surprised it still works on her.

As it turned out, getting shot was the least of my problems and yet another crappy chapter in the life of yours truly was about to get a whole lot worse.

* * *

**The Pentagon, Washington DC**

The gray-haired, elegantly dressed man walked quickly down the long expanse of corridor breaking his stride only for another security check – a retinal scan this time - frustrating and time consuming but a necessary procedure in the current climate. His identity verified. the metal door ahead of him slid open almost soundlessly to reveal yet another stretch of identical corridor. He continued his pace until about halfway along when he stopped before one of the many light wooden doors that lined this wing of the Pentagon., distinguishable from its companions only by the number 277. Hand resting on the handle, he paused for a moment while he took a long measured breath to ward off an unaccustomed bout of nerves, or was it excitement? He wasn't sure.

A certain event earlier that morning in San Diego had been the catalyst for this clandestine and highly sensitive meeting behind these closed doors; a meeting he was determined would ensure that today was the day the Department of Defense finally took total control of the QS9300 Project.

Straightening his dark tie, Jonas Spelling, Director of the DoD, entered into a small ante-room locking gaze immediately with the tall, powerfully built black man who stood guard at the set of double doors directly opposite. On seeing and recognizing Spelling, the agent spoke quietly into a small headset, ran a key card through the outer lock and stepped aside motioning the older man into the room beyond.

It was obvious even to the casual observer that this room was generally unoccupied, given the sparse furnishings; used for meetings or as a temporary office for the legion of government personnel who passed through the Capital on a daily basis.

Two people were already seated and waiting within; a man and a woman. Everything about the man shouted _military, _from his buzz cut to the rigid way he held himself, not altogether at ease in his dark unexceptional civilian suit. The woman, who sat behind the desk, could have been anywhere from her mid 50s to early 60s, short red hair styled immaculately framing an attractive if world-weary face.

Spelling nodded acknowledgement to them both before taking a seat, opening his briefcase and handing a folder across the desk to the woman. They all knew why they were there, making preamble unnecessary.

After several minutes of perusing the contents, the woman closed the folder and turned her steady gaze back to Spelling.

"Director Spelling we have to ensure that there really is no other option at this time. Sanctioning your actions will cause one hell of a storm at the very highest level and the fallout from this could have serious repercussions for all of us."

"I don't see that we have a choice given the…uh… _incident_ in San Diego." Spelling paused briefly then continued. "Only this morning Darien Fawkes was injured _again _in the line of duty, while out on yet another completely pointless assignment for Fish and Game. A prime example of how this valuable asset is being consistently abused and under-utilized.

"I truly believe that if we don't move quickly it's just a matter of time before Borden sends the I-Man to his death, and if that happens then the entire Project could potentially be set back by another 5 years. We need to bring young Mr. Fawkes in as a matter of urgency for his own protection if nothing else."

"Borden's not going to let this happen without a fight." A hint of strain in military man's husky Texas accent. "From the off QS9300 was always his Project and he's notoriously protective. Hell, I think the term 'need-to-know' was invented by Charlie.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "We can't underestimate the Agency. Even if the Project hasn't always had the funding it deserves, Borden has always been able to count on support from the very highest level, and it's better that we don't name names…" Glancing around nervously as if the bare walls had suddenly sprouted ears. "We all know who Borden's No. 1 fan is!"

"All the more reason to move now while He and his advisors have their attention focused overseas and we have the element of surprise," countered Spelling.

"The CIA, NSA, FBI, and if the rumors are true the SWRB, all have plans for the I-Man Project, so we're on borrowed time here. The Chinese have already made one attempt, so what's to stop them or another foreign power from also trying to steal this technology."

Spelling leaned forward in his chair and stared fixedly at the man and the woman in turn. "What Borden and his team have accomplished is truly remarkable, and no-one can take that away from them. But in my opinion the Agency has had its day; it's now time to pass the baton. The DoD has without question the best resources and research facilities to accomplish so much more and to take this Project to the next level."

The woman tapped the folder, remembering something she had read previously in a report about Darien Fawkes, stating that his former life as a thief had left him with a healthy disregard and distrust for most figures of authority. "And you're confident that your team are ready and can handle Mr. Fawkes?"

Spelling smiled thinly and nodded. "He certainly lacks proper discipline at the moment, but he has enormous potential even without the gland. Our own Dr. Carter and his research team have been working for some considerable time on a suitable 'Control Factor, and subsequent animal testing has been most encouraging. However, as there is now an added element of urgency involved, efforts have been stepped up to get the prototype ready for implantation at the earliest opportunity. The interim period won't be wasted as far as young Darien is concerned, as he'll undoubtedly require a period of re-adjustment. My scientists can hardly wait to get him into the labs for some first hand research."

"When do you plan to move?" The military man asked rising from his set.

"Later tonight, before Borden and his Agency get wind of our plan. Word is that he already suspects something is coming, but He doesn't know from which direction – the NSA or us. Two of my best agents, Ella Craven and Bruno Sartori, are already in place with a sweeper team. They're just waiting for the green light."

The man and woman exchanged glances and then both turned their attention to Spelling, the woman nodding almost imperceptibly.

"You' have your sanction. Don't disappoint us Director Spelling, there's more at stake here than you can imagine.

_Oh, I know exactly what's at stake, _Spelling thought to himself, knowing full well that if anything went wrong these two wouldn't hesitate to hang him out for the wolves to protect their own backs. But as far as he was concerned the reward far outweighed the risk, and nothing would or could go wrong.

* * *

**San Diego - Late night**

Bobby Hobbes drove the old battered company van through the dark, rain drenched streets of downtown San Diego, mostly deserted at this hour, except for a few souls like himself forced to brave the torrential downpour. According to the weather report the whole area was being battered by the tail end of an un-seasonal tropical storm blown in from the pacific.

Heavy and relentless sheets of rain were reflected in the van's headlights, and Golda's windshield washers screeched alarmingly as they struggled to cope against the deluge. From the radio, the Ray Charles classic 'Georgia on my Mind' could just about be heard over the din and Bobby hummed along softly as he leaned forward squinting to check out the road ahead.

He was on his way home after dropping Fawkes back at his own apartment. The exhaustion and stress of a day which had seen his younger partner getting shot, had taken its toll and Bobby rubbed a hand across weary eyes while still trying to peer through the rain splattered windshield.

Claire had done her best to convince Fawkes that he should stay in Lab 3 so that he could be monitored overnight, but the kid was stubborn and had worked on her until she'd finally caved in and agreed that he could go home. There were conditions though; the first being that he agreed to a dose of antibiotic, even though Fawkes whined big time that they always made him nauseous, and the second that Bobby drove him, which Hobbes would have done anyway without making it a condition. As always he'd actually been more worried than he'd let on, and hovered around The Keep all the while Claire had tended to Fawkes, trying to keep his tone casual and professional when asking the lovely doctor for an update. However, she'd seen through this act immediately and commented that it was so sweet the way he watched over and protected his partner. Bobby blushed from head to toe like a bashful schoolboy at the praise, and even more at the soft peck on the cheek she gave him before turning back to administer Fawkes' antibiotic shot from the biggest syringe Bobby had _ever_ seen. He actually thought he'd pass out as she jammed it quickly and expertly into his partner's partially exposed butt. Darien never even saw it coming, but his loud squeal afterwards reverberated around the entire building.

Later as they drove off in the van, Fawkes swallowed two of the painkillers his Keeper had prescribed washing them down with a half bottle of water, and they seemed to take affect almost immediately. By the time they'd covered the 20 minute journey from The Harding Building to Fawkes's neighborhood, he was out of it already. Bobby helped him upstairs to his apartment, where Darien collapsed face down onto his big over-stuffed sofa and was deeply asleep seconds later, snoring softly. Hobbes fussed around for a while to make sure everything was okay, then covered Darien with a comforter from the bed, turned off some of the lights and crept out quietly.

Now he was just a block or two from his own marina condo, and eagerly anticipating a long hot shower, stretching out on his bed with a cool corona and putting this lousy day well and truly behind him

The sudden high pitched beep of his cell phone jarred him back to reality and he grabbed for it quickly from the dashboard in front of him, immediately fearing the worst and that his wounded partner was calling him back for help. Fumbling and nearly dropping the phone in his haste, he cursed before bringing it to his ear nestled between cheek and collarbone so that he could keep both hands on the steering wheel to navigate the treacherous road conditions.

"Fawkesy, that you?"

"No Robert, it's Eberts," came the clipped response, and Hobbes raised an eyebrow in surprise knowing that a call from The Official's lackey this late at night usually spelled trouble with a capital T. "I'm with The Official and we were rather hoping that Agent Fawkes was still with you." That last sentence said a bit too casually for Booby's liking, and he twisted the wheel violently, swerving the van over to park up at the sidewalk, turning off the engine.

"Why what's wrong?" he asked quickly, pulling himself up in the seat and grasping the phone tightly in his hand with a growing sense of unease.

The other man at the end of the phone cleared his throat. "Um, well, nothing…we hope. But we do need to locate Agent Fawkes." Hobbes could detect an undertone of urgency in Eberts' usually measured manner.

"Well, when I dropped him off at his apartment a half hour ago the kid was out of it. Keepie gave him some heavy duty painkillers. What's goin' on _Eberts_?"

There was a scuffling noise at the other end and then the gruff voice of The Official as he grabbed the phone from his subordinate.

"Bobby, we have a…situation. I need you to bring Fawkes in right away." Some more shuffling and then, "We'll keep him here overnight and then move him to a safe house first thing. Back up is already on the way"

Hobbes fought to control his suddenly soaring panic. "Back up! Safe house! Chief what the hell is goin' on?" His last words shouted.

On the other end of the phone Borden paused, and when he spoke again his voice was uncharacteristically shaky. "We have intel from a very reliable source that another agency is out to snatch our boy. We can't let that happen, Bobby, that's why we need him in our protective custody."

Hobbes ran a hand over his face, trying to take in what he was hearing, and sighed wearily. "_Protective custody_ Chief? He ain't never gonna agree to that!"

A scraping of wood was followed by a loud crash as Borden stood quickly, sending his chair hurtling into the wall behind him, and Bobby could visualize the scene at the other end as Eberts tried unsuccessfully to calm his agitated boss.

"I don't give a damn whether he agrees or not! Bring him in kicking and screaming if you have to Bobby, but bring him in… NOW!" The Fat Man shouted, his blood pressure going through the roof.

Hobbes turned the ignition key and to his relief Golda's engine spluttered to life first time, the old girl was notoriously temperamental these days even with the recent modifications. The phone still held to his ear he executed a perfect U turn on the empty stretch of road, and pointed the van back in the direction he had just come.

"Don't worry Chief, I'm on it."

With one hand on the steering wheel and one eye on the road, Hobbes ended the call with The Official and then pressed the speed dial button on his cell for his partner's home number, and waited for what seemed like an eternity while it connected.

"C'mon Fawkesy pick up," he urged, putting his foot down hard on the gas pedal oblivious now to the bad driving conditions. Golda's tires slid dangerously over the wet asphalt throwing up surface spray in their wake, but he had it under control.

If his partner was in trouble and needed him, nothing on this earth would stop Bobby Hobbes from getting there.

Darien's phone went unanswered.

A moment later just as Hobbes was about to disconnect the call with a curse, he heard a click a rustling sound and then a mumbled unintelligible something.

"Fawkes!" Bobby raised his eyes heavenward and offered a silent prayer of thanks.

"Hobbesy…wazzup?" came the groggy response

Not wanting to spook his partner unnecessarily Bobby decided there and then not to tell him the truth, knowing that Fawkes would most probably kick his ass later, or try to anyway. He also knew that any mention of those two little words, 'protective custody', and the ex-thief would go AWOL.

"Hey buddy," Hobbes struggled to keep his tone even. "There's some sort of emergency back at HQ, we've been ordered in. I'm on my way back for you now."

Okay, not exactly a lie either, and Bobby silently complimented himself for his quick thinking.

"Can't…need sleep…shoulder hurtin'." Darien's voice trailed away as if he'd dozed off again.

"FAWKES1" Bobby shouted his partner's name down the phone, quickly controlling his natural tendency to freak out when his friends were in danger. Taking a couple of deep breaths and making sure his words were calmer so that Darien wouldn't suspect something was up.

"C'mon hotshot, get that skinny ass offa that couch. Grab some coffee. I'll be there in 15/20 minutes!"

"'Kay". The reluctant voice on the other end of the phone sounded very young at that moment

As he ended the call, Bobby hoped to hell it was just another false alarm.

When his phone started ringing, it took Darien a long while to struggle up from the warm comfort of his mostly drug-induced sleep, and to actually work out where the freakin' noise was coming from. Still face down on his sofa, he raised his sleepy head out of the cushions and with dazed, half-opened eyes tried to focus on the world around him.

His apartment was in semi darkness, the only light coming from a small table lamp and the Zippy Cola refrigerator across in his kitchen area. Reaching one long arm out he managed to snag the receiver on the third try, and then listened as his partner told him that they had to go to work….again! What the hell time was it anyway?

He'd worked with Bobby Hobbes long enough now to recognize an edge of urgency in his voice, and knew that if Bobby thought it important enough to haul him out of his sick bed in the middle of the night from hell, then there had to be a good reason. Though if this turned out to be another false alarm, someone would pay.

Outside driving rain and strong winds still lashed the city, and the windows in his apartment shook eerily as they were buffeted by the extreme elements.

It took every ounce of willpower he had just to push himself up, and then slowly slide his legs around until his feet touched the floor, noting absently that he still wore most of the same clothes from earlier in the day, minus his ruined jacket and shirt. Maybe bullet holes would be the next big fashion trend? Luckily he kept a few items of clothing at The Keep, including the black long sleeve sweater he now wore with his brown blood-stained corduroy pants. Darien smiled when he realized that Bobby had obviously removed his tan boots for him after he'd collapsed onto the couch, as they now sat neatly on the floor.

Running a hand over his face and through his hair, Darien sighed as he pushed himself up from the sofa and stretched his long well-toned body, an act he immediately regretted as red hot pain exploded from his injured shoulder and he cursed bitterly clutching his arm until the burning ache subsided.

Through the haze of his conversation with Hobbes, he seemed to recall his partner saying something about being there in 20 minutes, and he wondered if he had enough time to shower and change. At the very least he definitely needed a strong coffee to lift the fog in his head.

The headlamps of a vehicle suddenly pierced the darkness outside, hitting his windows and sending sharp beams of light trailing across his apartment. From the kitchen where he'd just prepared a pot of fresh coffee, Darien listened distractedly as the engine was shut off. Grabbing a small bottle of water from the refrigerator and practically swallowing it down in one long thirsty gulp, he padded over to his apartment door flipping the lock and leaving the door slightly ajar for his partner, before heading for the bathroom.

Behind him came a cold draft from the hallway as the door was pushed all the way open, and then a soft footfall. Still walking and without turning he spoke over his shoulder to his partner.

"Coffee's on the stove Bobby, just give me a couple minutes."

"Darien Fawkes!" A female voice, definitely not Hobbes.

Darien froze dead in his tracks his heart rate suddenly soaring, and he forced himself to take several long deep breaths to control the familiar chilling tingle at the base of his neck caused by the unexpected adrenalin surge.

Closing his eyes momentarily he muttered a quick prayer to whoever was listening, before slowly turning to confront his visitor, or visitors as it turned out…four of them. A tall, drop-dead gorgeous babe, with short jet black hair, wearing dark pants and a black leather thigh-length jacket, beside her a bald, powerfully built man who looked as if he was made out of concrete. Coming through the door behind them were two dark suits, both carrying compact and very lethal looking semi automatic weapons pointing at him!

He took a few instinctive steps backwards, noting straight away that the two suits were already slowly panning out to either side.

Agent Ella Craven smiled reassuringly at Darien as she also moved slowly towards him, her constant companion and fellow DoD Agent Bruno Sartori a couple of paces behind her. In what she considered a reassuring gesture, Ella held out her left hand, palm upwards, while her other hand stayed down at her side failing to conceal something that looked to Darien suspiciously like a tranquilizer gun. He glanced around him nervously and then backed up some more until he collided with the wall, the cold bare brick digging into his back through his thin sweater.

"It's okay Darien, we're not going to hurt you". She spoke softly to calm his noticeably rising agitation.

Darien gestured at the tranq gun which she was doing a lousy job of hiding. "I'm guessing that thing doesn't squirt water!"

The woman smiled and shrugged, and it was when she raised the weapon and leveled it roughly at his chest that he decided it was definitely time to act while there was still a chance, however slight, of getting through the little net closing in around him. Though his reflexes were shot to hell because of the meds in his system, he knew he had to try to get outside the apartment and then just hold out until Hobbes rode to the rescue. Almost imperceptibly he took a deep breath and then quickened his heart rate, feeling the comforting chill as the quicksilver started to flow from his pores over his entire body. The suit to his left gasped in shock and stopped dead in his tracks.

Ella's smile broadened and she looked impressed. "Truly amazing, but I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Bruno Sartori barked orders at his two subordinates just as Darien's form disappeared completely under the protective icy coating, ducking an instant before a tranq dart hit the wall at the spot he'd just vacated. His instincts had him dodging low and to his left, using all the strength he could muster in his seriously weakened state and charging headlong into the suit who still gaped open-mouthed at his disappearing trick. The speed and momentum knocked the man off his feet, Darien going down heavily with him and his injured shoulder slamming onto the hard wooden floor. For a moment he thought he might actually pass out from the searing pain, suspecting that he'd opened the wound again and it was probably bleeding….a lot! Pausing a second to catch his breath, Darien eyed the open doorway just a few tantalizing feet away. It was now or never! Crouching, he steadied his breathing and tried his best to ignore the pain in his shoulder; Claire would fix that later on. For now it was all about escape.

Ella had second-guessed him, though as the only way out it hadn't taken huge powers of deduction on her part. "Cover the door dammit. Do I have to do everything myself?"she snarled at the two suits, snatching one of their weapons and wondering where to actually aim it just as Bobby Hobbes appeared in the open doorway of the apartment.

He had the drop on the woman and two of her companions before they even had time to react.

"Federal Agent! Put down your weapons!" Hobbes was in full 'hard-assed federal operative mode' at that moment, and Darien loved him for it..

It had taken the seasoned agent little more than a second to assess the scene and the threat before him. The two suits did as they were told backing up carefully. Ella muttered a curse and started to raise her hands, her eyes darting quickly to Hobbes' left, the hint of a smile touching her lips when she saw Sartori, obscured from Bobby's direct line of vision, edging along the wall towards the doorway.

"Fawkes, you okay buddy?" Bobby's eyes searched the area ahead of him for his friend, then turning back to Ella Craven he snarled, "Are you deaf lady? I said put down your freakin' weap…" He never got to finish the sentence.

"Bobby watch out!" Darien's shouted warning came a moment too late as Sartori brought the butt of his gun viciously down onto his friend's skull with a sickening crack. Hobbes went down as if he'd been pole axed.

Darien stared at his partner in shock, shedding the quicksilver cloak in a breathtaking cascade of metal flakes as he rushed to his friend's side. "Oh,God!"

With his heart racing he knelt down, gingerly reaching a hand inside the older mans collar to feel for a pulse - it was weak but it was there. A large, very nasty gash on the side of Bobby's skull was already oozing a lot of blood...and stuff. Still kneeling, Darien turned slightly and spoke over his shoulder to the man and woman standing just behind him now, his dark eyes full of concern and fear for his friend. "Please, he needs help."

With a snarl Sartori slipped the weapon around in his large hand, cocked it and then pointed it straight at Hobbes' head. "Well then, let me put him out of his misery."

"NO! You bastard!" Darien lunged at the stocky man, knocking his arm away and upwards just as his finger squeezed the trigger, the bullet impacting harmlessly into the wall above the doorway, the explosion resonating in the normally quiet apartment block.

Pivoting slightly on his heels Darien thrust his elbow as hard as it would go into Sartori's rib cage. The larger man grunted and then roared furiously, digging his fingers into Darien's injured left shoulder spitefully. As he cried out practically falling to his knees, Sartori backhanded him savagely with such force that he was propelled across the room. The air left his body in a great whoosh as he collided with the hard wall, slid to the floor in an untidy heap and lay there gasping and waiting for the flashing lights and stars to clear his vision. Intense pain, every part of him hurt now.

Through the haze he could hear the woman's voice raised in sharp warning to someone called Bruno, telling him to back off and that she would flay him alive if he did any serious damage. Darien suddenly realized they were arguing over him and groaned.

"Bruno! Back off " Ella moved to block Sartori's way as he stared thunderously down at Darien. The two suits hovered close by waiting for orders, not really sure what was going down. After a long tense moment Sartori nodded and seemed to relax, his body language changing completely. The heavy man was still a force to be reckoned with at any time, but for now the danger had passed.

Ella Craven touched the man on the arm and grinned.. "Good, now you can hold him for me."

"My pleasure." A cruel smile of anticipation twisted his heavy features.

Darien was struggling to pull himself upright using the wall as support, when he was grabbed again and a solid muscled arm looped around his neck securing him in a perfect and unbreakable headlock. His fingers clutched frantically at the powerful arm as the pressure of the hold constricted his wind pipe making him gag as all 6 foot plus of him was hoisted up, his feet barely touching the ground. He was dragged across the room and then dropped unceremoniously onto the solid wooden floorboards practically at the woman's feet. A heavy rubber-soled boot on the back of Darien's neck effectively held him in place while one of the suits pulled his arms roughly behind his back and snapped a pair of handcuffs tightly around both wrists, making him hiss in pain as his injured shoulder was wrenched.. He wondered if concrete man might actually let him take in some air soon otherwise he would probably drown in his own puke.

Ella knelt at Darien's side, and he watched through blurred vision as she quickly withdrew a small metallic silver case from the inside of her jacket and laid it open in front of her. Set within the padded interior Darien could just make out a small syringe, already containing a measured dose of a pale amber liquid, watching with rising panic as she bit off the rubber cap from the needle and then turned in his direction. Instinct made him put up one final desperate struggle and by arching his back he succeeded in throwing Sartori off balance momentarily.

"Hold him still Bruno," Ella hissed hovering over Darien as he attempted to roll away from her, and she caught the fear in his eyes as he stared at the syringe in her hand. Mystery substances injected into his body were always bad news.

"I'm trying! Come here you little punk." The heavy man was getting rattled again now as he hated to lose his cool in front of his colleagues, particularly the drones as he liked to call the lower ranking agents like the two suits who were watching with barely concealed amusement. Grabbing Darien by the neck of his sweater Sartori manhandled him back towards Ella and then knelt down gripping his shoulders, his knee grinding spitefully into the small of his back.

With Sartori now holding Darien completely immobile, Ella pushed up his sleeve, found a suitable vein on the inside of his right forearm and slid the needle expertly home. Darien hardly felt a thing as the powerful sedative was sent coursing into his bloodstream fighting its effects for as long as possible, but in the end it just felt so good to succumb and he slowly drifted away. His last waking memory was of Bobby lying helpless across the room and Ella's voice softly reassuring, her hand gently stroking his face and his hair, then peaceful, dreamless, oblivion.

Ella Craven left it to her team to transfer the deeply unconscious Darien Fawkes outside to their dark SUV. The Lear jet was fuelled and waiting for them at a government owned landing strip north of Los Angeles, an area which had so far avoided the worst of the tropical storm, and the sooner they left the better. It was a sure bet that Agency back up would be on site at any moment. Staring down at the inert form of Bobby Hobbes, she smiled dispassionately and then leaned down to place an official looking government envelope on his chest, patting it softly, before casually stepping over the unconscious and seriously injured man to exit the apartment.

Inside the envelope was a check for 17 million dollars made payable to Charles Borden.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"It's okay, you're okay Bobby," Claire soothed as Bobby Hobbes slowly struggled back to consciousness.

Almost three days had passed since he'd been found by the back up team seriously injured on the floor of Darien Fawkes apartment. There was no sign of his younger partner but from evidence at the scene they knew he'd put up a fight, and they also knew he'd been heavily sedated before being taken.

Claire gripped Bobby's hand and with the sleeve of her sweater on the other dabbed at another tear that threatened. She'd shed a lot of tears over the past few days for her two friends. She'd been at Bobby's bedside for the entire time, made to stand back and watch the neurosurgery team at Fort Leavitt fight battle to save his life. A single vicious blow had cracked his skull and caused Bobby's brain to swell to such a degree that he had undergone emergency surgery to alleviate the pressure. After a nail-biting 24 hours when his condition had been critical, the doctors were now confident enough to start rousing him from his chemically-induced coma. Bobby stirred again, his eyes opening briefly and, though not really focusing on anything in particular, he mumbled incoherently.

The door opened quietly and Claire gazed up to see Albert Eberts coming back into the room carrying two steaming cups of coffee, and she smiled wearily at her co-worker and friend as he handed one to her. Eberts had spent much of his free time at the hospital with Claire, only leaving when he was needed by The Official or to catch up on some sleep, and she had been so grateful for his company and reassuring presence.

Despite the constant childish bickering and often open animosity between Hobbes and the clerk, Claire knew that the kind-hearted young man was as devastated as she was at the events of the past few days.

He studied with concern the sallow complexion and dark shadows circling Claire's eyes, but knew there was no point in trying to convince her to get some rest. Both he and The Official had tried and failed. She had stubbornly refused to leave until Hobbes was fully conscious, stating that she didn't want him to wake up surrounded by strangers and on his own. In the same situation she knew he would never leave her side, not for a moment.

Bobby stirred again but this time his eyes opened properly and he smiled at her. "Yo Keepie!" he managed hoarsely his voice practically a whisper.

"Oh, Bobby, Thank God. I've…we've been so worried."

The relief was evident on her lovely face leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on Bobby's lips, her tears dropping onto his face.

"Definitely worth takin' a crack on the noggin for _that_!" Bobby said, a slow dreamy smile spreading across his face, and then weakly, "You even think about tryin' that Ebes and you're a dead man."

The young agent smiled warmly. "Welcome back Robert."

Bobby's eyes flickered shut and they thought he had drifted away again, only to open quickly again moments later as he realized someone was missing from the little bedside scene.

"Where's Fawkes?"

It was just before dawn now and Hobbes was asleep.

An exhausted Claire turned to Eberts, and the young mans heart broke to see the intense sadness in her eyes. "It's the end of everything isn't it? " She spoke softly.

"Without Darien there's no QS9300 Project and without the QS9300 Project there's no Agency. I don't think Bobby would stay without him anyway, it would be too painful."

He had never really been very good at dealing with human emotions and now struggled to find the words to comfort one of his dearest friends.

"It's not over until it's over, as my Great Aunt Dorothy always says, and I believe that to be the case, until I'm proved wrong. And that rarely happens."

"Oh, Albert I know it's going to be hard for you too, you'll miss both of them as much as I will. " She touched his arm affectionately the ghost of a smile touching her face. "Wherever Darien is he could be lost to us for good now. Anything could have happened to him, I can't bear to think about it." She pulled her sweater around her protectively and shivered slightly.

"Aagh! It makes me so bloody angry. After everything he's been through, after everything he brought to this Project to the Agency, that some, some big thief can just waltz in and steal him from us. Steal his life. And the worst thing is that we don't even know where to start looking. It's hopeless." Her voice trailed to a whisper as she fought to control her surging emotions. The last thing she wanted to do was wake Bobby. He'd been distraught enough when they'd been forced to tell him about Darien's kidnapping, blaming himself as always for not getting there in time and covering his partners back.

"Perhaps not entirely hopeless." Eberts spoke softly now, and Claire thought she'd misheard him at first.

He got up and went to the door, taking a furtive glance up and down the corridor outside before closing it firmly. He'd just made a decision to disclose some highly sensitive information that The Official wanted kept under wraps for the moment, until he could formulate some sort of plan of action.

"We know where Darien is being held." He said it quickly and then watched her jaw drop in astonishment, a multitude of emotions sweeping across her ashen face.

"What? How?" She stuttered, glancing over to make sure Bobby wasn't hearing this.

"They've actually made very little real effort to conceal their tracks," Eberts advised.

"It was Jonas Spelling's signature on the check found with Robert."

Claire gasped and her hand shot to her mouth. The knowledge that her former boss was involved filled her with an overwhelming sense of dread, quickly followed by good old-fashioned anger. "The Department of Defense. Oh my God! It's everything Darien feared the most. Well, what are we waiting for? Why don't we just go and get him back," she demanded.

"Claire, the very fact that they're not trying to conceal Darien's location means that it has been sanctioned from the highest level, otherwise to even contemplate this extreme course of action would be reckless in the extreme. Until The Official is able to…ah.. negotiate his safe return our hands are tied. We simply have no authority."

"What do you mean no bloody authority?" she shouted, instantly lowering her voice to a whisper as Bobby stirred in the bed behind her.. "We're talking about the life of a man here, our friend. Let's just steal him back, teach the buggers a lesson."

Claire's uncharacteristic outburst now made Eberts consider that perhaps it hadn't been wise to tell her everything. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat for the rest.

"That's the problem. Technically he doesn't 'belong' to us any more. The DoD handled everything impeccably as far as the official records will show, and reimbursed The Agency in full for The Gland… and its host."

"That's blood money Albert and you know it." Her face was flushed and angry now, frustration in her tone. She gestured towards Hobbes. "What are we going to tell him?"

"For that reason Claire I am going to have to insist you don't reveal any of this conversation to Robert. If you do I will just deny it. At this delicate stage the last thing The Official needs is a rescue attempt that will in all likelihood fail, and then they'll put Darien somewhere we can never reach him."

Claire ran a hand through her blond hair staring in desperation at her colleague and friend. "So what do we do next?" She asked, her voice almost a whisper.

"Well, I suggest we pay our _friends _at the Department of Defense a visit."

Eberts and Claire both turned at the same time to stare in shock at their unexpected eavesdropper. Neither of them had heard him enter or actually knew how long he'd been standing there listening to their conversation. Eberts blushed under the intense stare of The Official, his mortified expression turning to one of confusion when he noticed that for first time in many days the Chief of the Agency was actually…smiling.

"Doctor Keeply! You and I have been granted an audience with Jonas Spelling, to discuss the future of the QS9300 Project. Reading between the lines, I'm willing to take a bet that our boy Fawkes is giving them trouble already."

* * *

Ella Craven stared intently at Darien Fawkes' image on one of the cctv monitors covering his holding room. At that moment he appeared to be asleep, lying on his bed face down one arm dangling off the side. All was quiet now, but they'd had to forcibly restrain and sedate him a short time before so that his medical team could take tissue and blood samples for testing. Though they had anticipated some initial resistance, Darien had given non-co-operation and truculence a whole new meaning, refusing the most basic requests and, more importantly, any attempts to 'persuade' him to demonstrate his quicksilver abilities.

Ella couldn't help but admire his stubborn determination. To her mind it would make this assignment all the more interesting. However, her superiors wanted more immediate results, which was why to her annoyance Charles Borden and Dr. Claire Keeply had been invited to the facility. Spelling hoped that by now The Agency were coming to terms with the loss of their prized asset, after all they had been compensated in full. He also hoped that the presence of two familiar faces might reassure Fawkes, and get him to co-operate without the need for further forced intervention.

Sartori sat beside her, staring at her staring at Darien. "I know that look." An amused glint danced in his eyes.

"And what _look_ would that be?" Arching one perfect eyebrow as she smiled back at him.

The big man ran a finger tenderly along her perfect jawbone. "The cat who got the cream!" He nodded slightly towards the monitor, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Ella allowed herself another smile. Sartori knew her too well.

Darien Fawkes fascinated her, there was no doubt about that. He was definitely _not_ what she'd expected, in fact, he'd been a bit of a revelation. The fact that he was so attractive was a real bonus as far as she was concerned. It was rare these days that she met a man – or woman – who could arouse these feelings within her.

Sartori didn't count, though they were as close as any two people could be without the added complication of an intimate relationship. Besides, Bruno's sexual 'tastes' lay elsewhere, and Ella reflected that they would probably end up sharing Darien between them as they did almost everything else.

Ella was brought out of her studied reflection by the beep of her cell phone, which she irritably snatched up from the table, listening as security at the front gate advised her that Charles Borden and Claire Keeply had arrived.

Sighing she turned to Sartori. "The dead beats from the Agency are here. Let's get our little I-Man up and ready for his visitors".

* * *

The long sterile hallways of the DoD complex sent a shiver down Claire's spine. Memories of her time as an employee came flooding back, mostly bad ones, which she thought she'd managed to exorcise over the last few years working with the Agency.

Though Borden could undoubtedly be a ruthless, manipulative bastard at times, his tactics were nothing compared to Spelling and his people. Claire had been there and sampled it, and now found herself wishing she could run as fast as possible in the opposite direction to get away. Only the thought that Darien was here, somewhere, and that he needed her kept her following the two armed guards deeper into the facility. By the time they reached their destination on a lower sub-level, she had actually lost count of the number of security checks they had encountered along the way.

As they were ushered into a spacious briefing room, Jonas Spelling stepped forward smiling, his hand extended towards The Official.

"Ah, Charles. Welcome, welcome!"

Borden studied the man and his hand with undisguised contempt, glaring at him as if he'd just crawled up from underneath a dumpster. His fixed smile faltering for a moment under the Fat man's scrutiny, Spelling decided to turn his attention elsewhere. "And the lovely Claire, I can't tell you how pleased I am that you accepted my invitation."

Claire fought the overwhelming temptation to kick Jonas Spelling where it hurt. Then the creep wouldn't be so glad to see her.

"Cut the crap Spelling." Borden's low growl, interrupted her violent musings, his dislike for the other man evident. "We're not here to exchange pleasantries. You've taken something that belongs to my agency and I want it back."

She was about to protest that her Kept was not a 'something', but thought better of it when she noted the hard expression on The Official's already flushed face.

Spelling sat himself at the conference table, placing his elbows on the highly polished surface, fingers angled together under his chin, looking at them both in turn.

"Well, that 'something' technically belongs to us now, paid for in full I believe. Did you get the check?" A self-satisfied smirk touched the man's face, and Borden took a long deep breath, knowing it wouldn't do to lose control now. Too much depended on him playing along; he had to bide his time.

"Neither Darien Fawkes _nor_ The Gland are for sale."

"Come on Charles." Spelling had already had more than enough of Borden's blustering anger. "Do you really think we would just sit back and watch you consistently under-use such a valuable asset? It was only a matter of time before you got him killed on one of those pathetic little assignments for F&G. If not the DoD, then another agency would have snatched him from you sooner or later. We just got in first. It's all about tactics." Spelling smiled at them smugly.

"One of my best agents nearly died because of your so called 'tactics'." The Official spat furiously.

"Ah yes, Agent Robert Hobbes." Spelling shrugged casually. "Collateral damage I'm afraid!"

"You bastard!" It was Claire's turn now, ignoring The Official's warning glare.

"Bobby Hobbes is my friend. He's Darien's friend too, and when he's well enough you'd better find a bloody big hole to hide in."

"If and when Agent Hobbes comes looking I'll make sure he finds me. As for Darien, well he's going to be making some interesting new friends very soon." Spelling studied his former employee intently. He'd forgotten how lovely she was when she was angry.

"Good to see you haven't changed Claire, still fighting everyone's corner. Always ignoring that line between your duty as an employee of the US government and your misplaced sense of loyalty to The Kept. That's the reason you had to leave us in the first place isn't it?"

"Actually Jonas, the reason I left had more to do with the DoD's practices, which basically went against every moral code in the book."

That self-satisfied smile again. "You've obviously been reading the wrong book Claire."

"Maybe she's been reading the right book and you're just a sniveling, thieving, sorry excuse for a mother…" Borden's temper ignited, even though he'd done his best to keep it in check.

"Now, now Charlie. Remember the blood pressure," Spelling goaded, enjoying the fact that he'd rattled the Fat Man's cage once again.

Claire's voice cut through any thoughts both men had of a further verbal battle.

"Gentlemen. Let's not forget why we're here shall we?" she snapped harshly, then calmly reminding them, "Darien?"

The mention of his agent's name brought about another expletive from The Official leveled in Spelling's direction.

The Director of he DoD held up a hand in surrender. He didn't have time for this and needed to concentrate on the main reason for inviting Borden and the doctor to the complex. Hopefully their visit would go some way to calming Fawkes. The ultimate goal was to get him operational and out in the field for the DoD in the shortest possible time, though Spelling was not completely averse to his own research medical teams preference for making him a full time lab rat. Either plan would involve some degree of co-operation from him, which they just weren't getting at the moment.

Borden still refusing to take a seat at the table stormed off to the far side of the room to glower, while Spelling composed himself, straightening his dark tie.

"Darien is being a little…'difficult'." He caught the quick amused glances exchanged by his guests, but chose to ignore them, continuing, "Frankly, he's refusing to co-operate in any way. We've had to resort to drastic measures just to do routine blood work on him."

"Drastic measures!" Claire had a very good idea what that meant. "You idiots! Do you realize that by overdosing him with a cocktail of chemicals you could do permanent damage to both Darien…" she glanced sideways at Borden "…and the gland. He has a unique metabolism and immune system."

Spelling nodded. "My team have studied your data very carefully Claire, but there's nothing like first hand experience. Which brings me to the reason why I've invited you here; I was hoping that Charles would agree to your temporary transfer, just until Darien has, uh, settled in?"

Spelling closed his eyes and awaited the expected explosion from Borden, and opened them a moment later when it didn't come. He decided to continue while he had their attention. "Charles we can strike a deal here. In exchange for the loan of Dr. Keeply, the Agency can retain exclusively any new data pertaining to the QS9300 Project. Furthermore, we'll add another 3 million to your bank balance as a token of our appreciation for research purposes."

Borden eyed the man suspiciously. "And what exactly do _you_ get?"

"We get to share in the future of the Project. Our research team working with your team, Dr. Keeply overseeing everything of course." He paused, knowing the next part of the deal wouldn't go down well. "We also secure exclusivity to Fawkes; All missions sanctioned and overseen by my personnel only. You and the Agency will officially relinquish any further control or… contact."

Claire was staring aghast at them. After all that had been done to Darien and Bobby, how could The Official even be considering this offer, it was absurd, wasn't it?

"Don't I have a say in any of this?" It was time to make a stand she decided.

"Of course you do Claire…" Spelling began not altogether convincingly.

"Dr. Keeply, you will do as you're ordered," cut in The Official sharply. "And those orders are that you remain here for the time being to work alongside Jonas and his team."

Claire opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it just as quickly. Words failed her. She couldn't believe what had just been agreed. The Official had effectively sold Darien's soul to the Devil himself, in the form of Jonas Spelling just so that he could keep a grasp, however tenuous, on his damned I-Man Project.

Spelling could hardly believe the outcome either. He'd expected more resistance, but assumed that Borden had caved in so quickly because this deal meant he at least still retained partial control of the QS9300 Project, for the time being at least. With the additional funding he might even produce another I-Man in the not too distant future.

Then Spelling was reaching for a button on the intercom just in front of him on the table.

"Ask Agent Craven to bring him up to sub level 3 briefing room."

* * *

Ella Craven entered, an amused smile playing on her face, and the reason was evident a few moments later. From outside in the corridor came a commotion, and Claire's heart leapt at the familiar voice raised in irritation.

"Will you stop with the pushing. I'm in okay!"

Darien Fawkes came into the briefing room then, hands jammed into the pockets of a pair of white cotton draw-string scrubs, slung low on his slim hips. The outline of a bandage showing beneath the tight fitting white t-shirt that gripped his lean muscled torso like a second skin. Behind Darien came Sartori and an armed escort.

The two-bit punk with attitude act dropped the instant Darien set eyes on his Keeper and The Official. Claire reacted instinctively to his sudden appearance and to the look of overwhelming relief that swept across his face when he saw her, moving forward quickly, her arms wrapping themselves around her Kept protectively. Darien gripped her tightly in return, his face burying itself in her hair.

From across the room Ella flashed a look of pure venom in Claire's direction.

A moment later Darien pulled away to stare down at her, his eyes full of concern though almost too afraid to ask. "Bobby?"

Claire touched his face reassuringly. "He's fine. It'll take more than a little bump on the head to finish him."

Darien's relief was palpable. "Thank God. I thought he was, you know? Guess there was nothin' much in his thick skull to start with huh?" His attempt at humor was more to ease his own pent up fears than anything else.

"He'll be in the hospital for a few more days yet, with the nurses fussing over him no doubt."

As Darien stood back from her, Claire caught the murderous glare he shot in Sartori's direction. The bald man seemed to find something amusing.

Now that she could get her first real look at him, Claire noticed immediately how pale and exhausted he looked, and the dark shadows beneath Darien's eyes which were red rimmed and slightly bloodshot. Not the QSM kind of bloodshot, but more than likely the result of the sedatives and other drugs they'd been forcing into his system over the past few days. He looked terrible. He also seemed on edge, and it took Claire a moment to realize he was still gripping her hand tightly as if afraid to let go.

Charles Borden reached out and briefly touched Darien's shoulder. "How ya doin' kid?" Claire was convinced she saw the hint of real concern on The Official's usually inscrutable face, though she couldn't be sure.

"Uh, okay sir, considering I've been beaten up, kidnapped, drugged and stashed in freakin' area 51." He ran a hand across tired eyes and then from habit through his hair, staring anxiously from Borden to Claire. "Fish, Keepie. Please tell me you've come to bust me outta here, cause guys, this is just about my worst nightmare."

Borden glanced away, unwilling or unable to meet Darien's gaze, and when he turned to Claire for reassurance he saw only an intense sadness there.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry….." she began, but her words caught in her throat and she fought back the tears that had threatened to spill the moment he'd walked in through the door.

"Oh.. my.. God!" The sudden realization hit him then. He was here to stay.

"Listen kid…." As Borden reached out a tentative hand to his shoulder again, Darien dropped heavily down onto the edge of the conference table, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut.

"How much Charlie?" his voice was quiet, resigned now.

"What?" Borden looked genuinely confused.

"You've sold me out you fat bastard, so I think I deserve to know how much I'm worth. What's the goin' rate for an Invisible Man these days huh?

"Fawkes, that's enough." Borden growled a low warning, not wanting this discussion here in front of Spelling and his agents who were watching in rapt fascination.

"I thought we had a deal Charlie? I coulda walked away from your crappy little agency a thousand times in the past few months, but I stayed. Mostly cause of Bobby and Claire, but also out of some freakin' misplaced sense of loyalty to you. But then you wouldn't know the meaning of the word 'loyalty' if it walked up and bit you on your fat ass," he hissed spitefully.

In all the time she'd worked for him, Claire had never known a moment when The Official had been truly lost for words, until now. The man's usual bluster was gone and he stared into the corner of the room, anywhere but at his former agent.

Spelling's voice cut across the tension, and Claire saw Darien clench his hands into tight fists as the man spoke. "Deals are made to be broken Darien, it's good business practice. Charles has done what he had to do to safeguard the future of the Agency and of the QS9300 Project. After all it was Kevin's legacy."

Darien was on his feet fast to confront Spelling, just inches away from the man. "Don't you ever, ever mention my brother, you spineless pile of cr…"

Claire screamed a warning just as Sartori's huge fist pounded into Darien's left side. The shock of the sudden vicious kidney blow and the intense, excruciating pain that accompanied it sent him to his knees where he fought desperately to draw in a breath, coughing and dry heaving at the same time. Claire was immediately at his side, a soothing hand rubbing his back, glaring angrily up at Sartori.

"Darien, Darien," Spelling sighed wearily, nodding his approval to Sartori. "Respect and discipline were obviously in short supply at the Agency, but we have very different standards here. Perhaps it's time for our young friend to go back to his room eh, Bruno?"

The big man smiled, leaning down he grabbed Darien's left arm and hauled him roughly to his feet, ignoring Claire's outraged protest.

"A bit more time on your own should give you a chance to consider your future here at the DoD. And from tomorrow you _will _behave yourself and fully co-operate with your Handler and medical team. Do you understand?"

Spelling's face was a few inches from Darien's now. "Bruno, perhaps Darien could do with another quick lesson before bedtime?"

Despite the fire in his back Darien still managed a cocky grin as he spoke through pain-clenched teeth, "You sure you don't want to ask ole Charlie boy there for a re-fund...ouch!" Sartori's large hand clamped like a vice around his bicep as he pulled him roughly towards the doorway, the guard ready and waiting in the corridor.

"Wait!" Claire couldn't bear to think what would happen to Darien if she let him leave the room at that moment with those people. Sartori stopped in his tracks, and both he and Darien stared back curiously at her from the doorway. Ella, arms folded, just looked irritated, mumbling something under her breath.

Claire spoke directly to Spelling. "If I agree to stay on, temporarily, you have to promise me that no-one lays a finger on him."

Studying her intently for a long moment, Spelling took the time to consider the request and then nodded agreement, on one condition. "You'll have to ensure we do get his full co-operation."

"I'll do my best," she hedged, glancing nervously at her friend, who stared back at her with a mix of confusion and relief.

"Your best won't be good enough Dr. Keeply. If he doesn't start behaving, then we'll have to resort to.…other means. And you know what they are."

"Okay! But I need to talk to him… alone!"

Spelling ignored the look of anger Ella flashed at him. "Very well, but I want him back in his holding room. You can speak to him there."

As Claire followed the group out of the briefing room, she gazed worriedly back at Borden, surprised to see a sad smile on his face. He nodded once to her and then she left.

The Official stared at the closed door for a good few minutes after Darien and Claire had gone, and was only brought out of his temporary stupor by Spellings voice. "Charles, you're welcome to stay overnight, we have plenty of room?"

"Thank you Jonas, but I have urgent business back in San Diego. I believe your jet is on standby to take me?" Borden shivered mentally at the thought of having to stay in this place one moment longer than necessary. And if he had his way, his people wouldn't be here much longer either.

* * *

Darien hesitated briefly before entering his room, and Claire saw the reason for this as she followed in slowly behind him. Stark and clinically white, its only furniture being a bed, a metal table and chair which had been bolted into place, and the metal toilet and wash basin in the far corner. Two cameras high up well out of his reach on the wall, their red recording lights blinking continuously. He was a prisoner in every sense of the word, and probably with less privacy than he would have had in the State lock up.

She saw him tense as the steel and armored glass door hissed shut and locked automatically behind them.

"Well," he sighed gazing about his new 'home' almost apologetically, "this is about as bad as it gets!"

Smiling Claire leaned into him, his hand finding hers again and squeezing it softly.

"Do you like what I've done with the place?" The question was flippant, and Claire could tell he was desperately trying to keep up the act of bravado for her benefit. "Too bad they forgot to include windows, uh Keepie?" A shadow of a grin touched the corner of his handsome face as he sat down on the edge of the bed with Claire at his side.

"Sweetheart, I don't know what you want me to say."

Darien turned to her and she saw an intense sadness in those beautiful dark brown eyes, and at that moment she thought her heart might break. "You've told me stories about these dudes Claire, I know what they do and what they're gonna try to make me do, so you don't have to say anything."

She pushed a stray lock of hair off his face, and then kept her hand there. He seemed to welcome her touch. "I'll be here with you Darien, at least until you settle in."

That made him smile, though the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. "Settle in huh? Maybe you could bring a few things next time you drop by, oh say some soft lighting, a few rugs, make it nice and homely."

"Darien," it's just a matter of time before The Official finds a way to get you back home. I'm sure he's…."

He stood up now and moved to the far side of the room, standing just underneath one of the cameras, the other one above the door immediately panning in his direction.

Darien looked at his Keeper and Claire saw the utter desolation in his eyes. "Don't you get it Claire?" He was angry, but not really with her. "I'm screwed. Charlie's sold me to his DoD buddies. Hell, this was probably the plan all along. A couple of years in the field with Hobbes to show me which way round to hold a gun, let you fix the little QSM problem with the gland, and then bam I'm playin' with the big boys. He's probably already got the next poor schmuck lined up take my place, and then the whole thing starts over."

"I just don't believe that….he wouldn't, he couldn't. Could he?"

cThe cameras followed his every move as he paced around the room, but Claire knew he was oblivious to them at that moment. "Would, could and probably did," Darien stated flatly, returning to sit beside her on the bed and affectionately play punching her shoulder.

"So, what happens now?"

Claire hesitated for the briefest moment and then decided that she needed to be honest with him now. Trust always had to work both ways. "They want to run some tests…" she began hesitantly.

"Ah, the ole tests! If my memory serves, doesn't that usually involve _really_ big pointy needles? Nuh, uh!" He shook his head emphatically.

"Darien, listen to me this is serious. You really do need to co-operate at least for the time being, until we can find a way out of this place. If you don't then Spelling will just have you drugged and they'll do their tests anyway. I…I don't know how long I can protect you."

He was about to tell her, for the benefit of everyone he knew was analyzing their every word from the monitor room close by, that Spelling and the DoD could all go to hell and back for all he cared. But then he caught the quiet fear for him in her eyes and the tiny tear drop that trickled down her face, which she tried to reach quickly with the back of a shaky hand. But he got there first wiping it away gently with his thumb, keeping his hand on her face stroking gently, she closed her eyes as his warmth and strength seemed to penetrated her very soul.

After a long quiet moment he took his hand away and then looked up at her, resignation in those dark brown eyes. "Well I guess it won't hurt to let them see what they've got for their money!"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Jonas Spelling sat in his luxurious office, 5 floors above ground level and 10 floors above the sub-level of the facility which had become the hub of the QS9300 Project and where Darien Fawkes was currently 'housed'. Scattered in front of him on his desk were the pages of a detailed report on Darien and he scanned them briefly with undisguised pleasure. Fawkes was co-operating – finally.

He had been in Washington DC for the last 10 days, summoned there to explain his recent actions regarding the QS9300 Project to a secret government committee, knowing full well this was all part of a futile attempt by Charles Borden to wrest full control back for the Agency; but he also knew that the man had very little chance of succeeding while his friends in the White House were so pre-occupied.

However, even with his own high-level support, Spelling was well aware that he would need to produce results, and soon, otherwise it might jus be decided that the I-Man Project be passed on to one of his rivals or, worse still, back to Borden.

"And he's behaving himself?" This question was directed at Ella Craven, who sat in one of the two leather chairs in front of his desk.

The other was occupied by a tall, reed-thin man, with strands of wispy red hair combed over his otherwise bald head; Dr. Wesley Carter, head of the DoD's QS9300 research team.

"Perfectly. I hate to admit it Jonas, but Dr. Keeply has made a difference." Ella's eyes narrowed to tiny slits as she mentioned Claire's name through gritted teeth.

"There's still a little resistance to some of the tests." She glanced sideways at Dr. Carter, who nodded agreement with a little theatrical sigh. "But nothing of major relevance at the moment. Most importantly, he's been demonstrating his 'abilities' for Dr. Carter and his team almost on demand."

"Truly remarkable," Carter confirmed, pushing his gold-rimmed glasses further on to his sharp nose. "Darien's control of the Quicksilver gland is quite astounding given that it's a bio-synthetic implant."

Closing the folder in front of him and pushing it to one side, Spelling stared between Ella and Dr. Carter. "When do you think we can have him mission ready?

"Now that's the 17 million dollar question." The woman pulled herself up in her seat, stretching her long shapely legs out in front of her, aware of the effect on both Spelling and a visibly flustered Carter.

"Bruno and I have both been working with him intensively these past couple of weeks, to assess his general fitness level and combat skills among other things. To give them credit Jonas, the Agency has trained him well."

Spelling arched an eyebrow. "I never doubted it for a moment. Despite his penny-pinching, Borden runs an efficient little set up. Not that I'd ever tell him that of course." He shifted in his own chair, leaning forward. "I sense a 'but'?"

She nodded. "I think we have a potential problem. Honestly! I'm not sure he's got what it takes to do what's going to be asked of him. His over-active conscience will get in the way, believe me."

"Oh, I do believe you. But Fawkes is just going to have to learn the hard way that he really has very little choice in the matter where his future is concerned. He'll go _where_ we send him and do exactly _what_ we tell him to do. Besides, he's his father's son so the work should come naturally to him in time, and in the meantime, well this is where Dr. Carter and his team come in. Doctor, I'm hoping you have some news for us?"

Carter wavered for a second under Spelling's expectant scrutiny before nervously pushing his glasses up his nose again.

"As you're aware we considered several methods of control, chief among them a reversal of Dr. Arnaud De Thiel's 'cure, after all QSM and the counteragent were a quite brilliant concept. However, this option was discounted primarily due to the fact that Darien would need to undergo a lengthy course of gene therapy; and with the time constraints imposed…" he paused for a moment, idly wondering if these two had any real idea of the almost unbearable pressure he and his research team had been put under to come up with a viable solution in such a short time span, not that this would concern them greatly anyway when all they wanted was results, not excuses.

He cleared his throat to continue.

"We decided the best solution was to adapt technology already at our disposal to create a 'control factor' that we're confident will prove every bit as effective as QSM as a long or short term solution."

The scientist was pleased to have the complete attention of his audience of two as he extended the palm of his hand, to reveal a petrie dish containing a miniscule metallic object. Ella leaned forward squinting, a quizzical look on her face.

"It's a nano-bug," he advised keenly, though the woman didn't look any the wiser. "Once introduced and triggered it emits a small but painful electrical charge which primarily disrupts the signal between Darien's quicksilver and adrenal glands. As we haven't had sufficient time or indeed a suitable guinea pig to trial this device there's no way of knowing for sure what the effects will be to the rest of his system until it's implanted, however, we're confident they will be immediate and…uh…debilitating.

"The bug can only be activated via the Digital Trigger Devise, worn by his Handler," a flicker of a smile in Ella's direction, "or by a special neutralizing agent administered into the gland to 'short-circuit' the bug permanently. In addition we've also incorporated a tracking signal into the bug. Though the exact range is yet to be fully determined."

Spelling stood now and moved across to the floor to ceiling windows in his office, overlooking the vast facility below, his mind reeling with anticipation.

"This is excellent Dr. Carter, excellent. When will Fawkes be ready?"

Carter hesitated. "Well, in theory it's just a matter of implanting the bug, a relatively straight-forward procedure…"

"Well, what's the problem?" Ella interrupted irritably.

He shifted nervously, pulling on his earlobe. Women in general unnerved him, but this one definitely more than most as he was well aware of her reputation.

"Uh…um….Dr. Keeply. She's a little….protective, and insists on overseeing all medical testing or procedures on Agent Fawkes. She never leaves us alone with him in the lab."

Ella mumbled something that sounded like, '_damn wet nurse'._

"Ah, yes. What to do about our lovely Claire?" Spelling mused to no-one in particular.

Carter cleared his throat once again. "Uh, I believe we do have a solution of sorts. I've been involved in all of Darien's tests in one capacity or another, and while I know he doesn't really trust any of us he's a little more at ease with me. If Dr. Keeply was kept occupied…"

Ella leaned forward in her chair. "Leave her to me Jonas, it'll be my pleasure!"

He shot her a warning glare. "I don't want her harmed Ella. Without her expertise and diligence this project would possibly have died with Kevin Fawkes."

"I wouldn't dream of hurting her," she smiled innocently.

"Make sure you don't."

Moving back to stand behind his desk, Spelling looked at the woman with eager anticipation. "You know Ella, it really is quite exciting to think of the opportunities and rewards ahead of us." .

Ella Craven nodded in agreement, but for reasons of her own which would be far more exciting and personally rewarding than Spelling could ever imagine.

* * *

"What do you mean, I no longer have access?" Claire stared furiously at the guard, barring her way through the security door that led to Darien's quarters.

The man stood his ground. He had his orders, and it was more than his life was worth to disobey them. "This sector is now out of bounds to you Dr. Keeply."

"That's bloody ridiculous. How many times have you watched me come and go from here? Now you're telling me it's _out of bounds_." She frowned suspiciously. "Says who, exactly?"

His eyes shifted nervously to one side as footsteps approached.

"Says me!"

Claire spun on her heels at the familiar voice. Ella Craven stood a few feet away, her own key card held teasingly between finger and thumb.

"You have no right…!"

Ella held up a hand to quiet the other woman. "I have every right actually. I have clearance to take whatever precautions necessary to ensure the security of our technology."

Claire's obvious distress pleased her greatly, and she intended to savor every last moment while she had the time. Ella indicated the open door of an office. "Shall we?"

Arms folded across her angrily, Claire hesitated just a moment taking a couple of small breaths to control her temper before following the other woman into the room.

"I'm no danger to Darien and you know it," she spat furiously. "Now, do you want to tell me what the bloody hell this is all about or do I need to find Jonas?"

"Jonas is incommunicado for a few hours, so you'll just have to take me at my word. _Keepie!" _

"You're word! Hah!" Claire pushed a strand of long blonde hair back from her face.

"There's something going on, which is why you don't want me near Darien tonight. I'm not a fool."

"What makes you think there's anything 'going on'? Perhaps I've just decided that he needs to be cut loose from mommy's apron strings."

"Because I _know_ this agency." Claire's eyes flashed angrily at the other woman. "I know every stinking, horrible secret. That's why I walked away from it in the first place."

"Well, you're back now," Ella smirked, and Claire had the urge to smack her in the face.

"I'm back for one reason and one reason only, and you know it!"

"Ah yes, the delectable Darien. Well, he's not your problem any more. With immediate effect our own medical team will be taking over his day to day care so you're sort of…surplus to requirements."

Claire's mouth dropped open in shock and she swallowed hard before muttering softly,

"Y…you can't do that."

"We already have," the tall woman said matter-of-factly, strolling across the room to perch herself elegantly on the edge of a desk.

"What do you mean?" Claire was nervous now and she took a faltering step towards Ella.

"The honeymoon period is over. Darien needs to be primed and focused, but with you fussing around him all the time like an over-protective mother hen that isn't going to happen. You're a distraction he can do without."

Claire fought to control the overwhelming sense of panic which threatened. "I can only imagine what you bastards have planned for him.. He's a good man, a really gentle soul. Please don't do this to him…"

Ella held up her hand to stop Claire's words. "Enough! Anyone would think you have the hots for him. Ah, but then that would entail you crossing that patient-doctor divide wouldn't it? Frankly, no one would blame you. I don't know how you've kept your hands off him for so long, our Darien is a major piece of ass."

Ella relished the look of horror on the other woman's face, her smile broadening when she thought she'd touched on a nerve. She pushed herself away from the table and moved until she was just a few feet away from Claire.

"My God, the doctor really does have un-doctorly feelings for her Kept. And there I was thinking you were the proverbial Ice Queen."

"That's ridiculous." Claire folded her arms across herself defensively.

"Tut, tut! I think somebody's in denial," she chided, wagging her finger a few inches from Claire's face. "I wonder if Darien feels the same? Too bad neither of you will get the chance to sample loves young dream."

"You bloody bitch!" Claire's anger erupted and her hand lashed out catching the other woman fully across the face.

For a moment a heavy, tense silence permeated the room, as Ella held a hand to cover the red mark already appearing across her right cheek. Claire stood ready and waiting for retaliation of some sort, breathing heavily, her hands clenched into tight fists. When Ella Craven finally met her stare she was bewildered to see amusement in the other woman's eyes.

"You can have that one for free _Keepie_, cause I know you're going to be grieving the loss of gland boy." Ella got to her feet straightening out the imaginary creases in her body-hugging black pants. "By the time I've finished with him I doubt he'll even remember your name." Then she swung on her heels and left.

Claire stared after her for a few moments, frustration and panic competing to take hold of her. Darien was in real trouble and she was powerless to help him.

* * *

Darien strolled casually down the long corridor from his quarters towards the labs on the same level. He still hated this place and all that it stood for with a passion and would have escaped in a heartbeat had the opportunity come his way, but for now he realized he had to make the best of a bad deal.

They had actually surprised him over the past few weeks. No heavy handed tactics, other than a veiled threat or two from Sartori, and Darien's co-operation had been rewarded in other ways too. They'd called off the "personal security"; his constant companions since his arrival, and he was able to roam relatively freely around the lower levels of the facility, though without security he was restricted mainly to the two sub levels which housed the labs, briefing rooms, gym and his own quarters.

He'd also been moved to far more comfortable and spacious living accommodation, still windowless but, hey, to his mind a small price to pay to secure some privacy and a few of the home comforts he had started to miss so much; like reading material, music and a steady supply of the latest films on DVD.

He wondered absently why he hadn't seen Claire at all since that morning, particularly as they always made a point of spending an hour or so together on their own each day just for a friendly chat and to keep each others morale in check. Darien assumed she'd probably got caught up in some experiment or other and had lost track of the time. He'd know soon enough as he was on his way to find her now.

Pushing open the glass paneled doors he peeked around them into the main lab. Usually at this hour there were one or two technicians around, but tonight the place seemed strangely quiet.

"Yo, Keepie, you in here? Claire!"

A moment later a door on the far side swung open and Dr. Carter emerged carrying a metal surgical tray which he placed on one of the work counters, smiling pleasantly as he caught sight of Darien standing in the doorway.

"Hi doc. Have you seen the Keep…uh Dr, Keeply?

"I believe she's tied up on some research in another part of the facility, but she specifically said to tell you that she would stop by later this evening if she could."

Darien smiled, visibly relaxing. That was so typical of his Keeper; give her a petrie dish, a microscope and a blob of some rampant mutant virus and she was in _scienteez h_eaven.

Carter came towards him.

"She did suggest that we might make a start on your blood work tonight, if that's okay with you?"

"Uh…yeah…I guess." Darien hesitated for a moment; Claire had always been on hand whenever the medical team here had subjected him to another endless round of tests, but then Carter's hand was on his elbow and Darien allowed himself to be gently led further into the lab.

Carter actually liked Darien a lot more than he'd expected. Over the weeks he had seen some of the depth of the real man carefully hidden behind the smart-ass persona he cultivated for everyone's benefit. His intelligence, honesty, humor and innocence in some matters had come as a revelation. Tonight though Carter knew things would be difficult, and he needed to steady his resolve to get himself, and more importantly Darien, through the next few hours.

He waited while Darien shifted his long frame to get comfortable on the administering chair; a modern version of the one back at the Agency only this one was all soft black leather and chrome.

"This shouldn't take too long," the doctor assured kindly. "Why don't you just lie back and try to relax.""

Darien sighed deeply and closed his eyes actually welcoming the chance to unwind properly after a day which had included an intense physical training session with Sartori. His muscles and joints had now started their usual nightly protest though surprisingly not as bad as in the early days, and he had to admit he was now probably in the best shape of his life. Even better than his second stretch in prison when he'd adopted a daily weights routine to alleviate the often mind-numbing boredom, but mostly to bulk up his naturally slim frame in an attempt to ward off the attention it frequently drew from a high percentage of his sex-starved pen pals

Sighing again he could feel the tension of the day start to leave him and then…"Ouch!"

His eyes flew wide open just in time to see Dr. Carter push home the plunger on the syringe currently biting into a vein on the inside of his left forearm. Rather than taking blood out he had just injected something into his bloodstream.

"Hey. What, what the fuck is that?" Stunned and panicking now Darien tried to pull his arm away and get upright, but was stopped by a pair of strong hands which appeared behind him as if from nowhere, clamping him roughly back down on the chair until the doctor had finished what he was doing. Darien wondered just when Sartori had entered the lab; he would recognize those huge ham fists anywhere.

"It'll just take a couple of minutes." Carter withdrew the now empty syringe and spoke, but Darien wasn't sure if he was talking to him or to the other people now within his line of vision; Jonas Spelling and Ella Craven stared curiously down at him while Sartori still held him firmly in place until whatever shit the doctor had just given him took effect.

For a brief moment the big man standing over him relaxed his grip and Darien tried once again to struggle upright, until the drug suddenly kicked in and his world began rotating violently. The hands that grabbed him this time were hardly necessary and he heard himself cry out "No" as he fell back weakly.

"Like a lamb to the slaughter," Ella observed dryly, reaching out one perfectly manicured finger to brush it across Darien's temple. By the way his body jerked to her touch she could tell he was still fighting the sedative.

Carter gave it another minute and then pushed back both of Darien's eyelids to check the pupils and then out of habit his pulse; they were all familiar by now with the side effects random drugs could often have on both Darien and the gland. Satisfied he turned to the young research assistant who had also now joined the small group, and motioned for him to lower the back of the chair into a horizontal position. Once this had been done and Darien was lying completely flat the assistant and Sartori easily flipped him over on to his front, restraints pulled tightly around his body as a precaution.

Jonas Spelling and Ella Craven watched with keen interest

While Darien was being prepped by the assistant, Carter pulled on a pair of rubber surgical gloves and then reached for the second syringe of the night. This one was much larger than the first and already contained the nano-bug within an exact dosage of a dense milky fluid perfectly harmless to the gland.

Carter removed the plastic cap and then stepped forward taking a couple of quick calming breaths.

"Hold him completely still," he urged his assistant whose hands were placed firmly on either side of Darien's skull, pushing the head slightly forward to expose the required section of the cranium as instructed. Sartori who hovered close by in case he was needed suddenly turned an odd shade of green as Carter raised the huge syringe, squirting a thin line of the fluid into the air.

The doctor had to implant the bug in the center of the gland, being careful not to damage any of the surrounding tissue. As an added precaution an MRI scan was scheduled later that same evening to ensure he had hit the target, though he dreaded the outcome – for him - if the scan revealed any damage had been caused by this unconventional procedure.

With the forefinger of his left hand he traced a line carefully up and down the old scar tissue at the base of Darien's skull, locating the exact spot below his hairline then slowly and carefully inserting the thick needle little by little. Darien's body convulsed slightly the moment the needle pierced the gland and Carter pressed the plunger to send the bug directly to its target.

After what seemed like an agonizing eternity to those observing the procedure, Carter carefully withdrew the needle and took a relieved step away, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "It's done," he advised with a relieved sigh

* * *

Bobby Hobbes strode purposefully along the hallways of The Harding Building, nodding distractedly to any Agency personnel who happened to pass him along the way. When word was out that he was in the building everyone did their best to keep their distance if at all possible; Hobbes was not a man to approach these days.

Officially he should still have been resting at home recovering from his near fatal head injury, but a little thing like that wouldn't stop him from his daily round trip to make The Official's life a living misery.

He'd spoken to Claire briefly on the phone on a couple of occasions over the past month, and knew that the Fat Man had struck some sort of deal with the Department of Defense that meant his friend was a virtual freakin' prisoner in some underground facility in Nevada.

He burst into The Official's office, not bothering to knock, and stalked across to place both hands on the man's desk, staring down at him menacingly.

"I wanna know exactly what you're doin' to get my partner back?" He'd asked the same question every day now for the entire two weeks he'd been out of the hospital.

Borden turned an accusing gaze on a nervous Eberts, who was hovering by the side of the desk as they checked over some old accounts reports. "Weren't you supposed to post a guard at the entrance?"

Bobby snorted derisively. "If you're talking about your wet-behind-the-ears Men in Black look-alike, I gave him the choice of having the crap kicked out of him or takin' an early lunch break."

Sighing resignedly, Borden gave a wordless signal to Eberts, who gladly beat a hasty retreat.

"Sit down Bobby," he said after a moment, not surprised when Hobbes totally ignored the offer. He pulled off his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger and awaited the inevitable tirade.

"Don't tell me that you're hands are tied, or that we have to wait until your friends at the White House have got time to deal with this," Hobbes ranted angrily. "All I know is that Fawkes deserves better than this from us, from you.. Let me take a team and bust him out, Chief?"

Borden knew there was nothing he could really say to appease this man and that unless a miracle occurred, and quickly, he would likely lose both of his best agents.

"Bobby, we've been over this before," he responded wearily. "With the level of security they have at that facility you'd never get further than the front gates, trust me on this. And look at you; you're hardly in peak condition, physically or mentally."

Hobbes idly fingered the small bandage covering the scar on the side of his head, brooding.

The Official continued as calmly as possible, "These things take time Bobby. _His_ advisors have assured me that this matter will be given top priority ,but Foreign policy is top of his agenda for the moment."

What Borden didn't dare disclose was his fear that the longer this went on the greater the chance that the QS9300 Project would stay under Spelling's control indefinitely, with The Agency only involved in new research or on a consultancy basis. If this happened then there was a very real possibility that they would lose Darien Fawkes for good; or at least the man they had known.

Hobbes wasn't well enough yet to face this harsh reality, though the Official suspected that he wouldn't be able to hold him back for much longer. It was just a matter of time before Hobbes came up with some hair-brained scheme to break into the facility and extract his partner by force; and more than likely with the willing help of his other partner in crime, Claire Keeply.

Even so, Borden knew for certain that his one good decision recently had been ordering the doctor to remain behind with Fawkes. With Eberts' guidance she'd actually managed to hack into the DoD's main data base and from there access some highly classified research files; among them one particularly interesting piece of information she'd found by pure chance: a security report detailing the theft of a highly toxic nerve agent from a DoD research laboratory in Arizona.

In 1997 the United States and 160 nations around the globe signed an international treaty banning all production and stockpiling of chemical weapons by 2007. The very fact that the DoD was in possession of this potentially lethal chemical weapon at all would be enough to cause an international incident of epic proportions were the news to leak. Which was why Spelling was currently doing everything he could to keep this robbery under wraps from everyone…including his superiors at the Pentagon.

Borden always liked to stay one step ahead of his enemies, so if Spelling wanted to play dirty then he would get his wish.

"I just can't sit back and do nothin'." Hobbes' desperate voice cut across his thoughts. It had already lost some its earlier threat.

Extracting himself with some difficulty from his chair, Borden came around the desk and laid one hand on Hobbes' shoulder, nudging him gently towards the office door.

"Bobby, go home, get some rest. Leave the negotiations to me. You'll be no good to anyone if you don't give yourself time to recover properly. You have my word that we'll keep you fully updated." With a subtle little shove he pushed Hobbes the rest of the way out of the office into the hallway, where the man just stood looking tired, shoulders sagging.

As Hobbes began his slow trek back along the hallway, Borden put his head around the door and called after his retreating agent, "See you tomorrow Bobby."

Outside in the parking lot Hobbes rested his back against Golda, closing his eyes and turning his face to soak up some of the hot afternoon rays, his mind wandering again to his best friend; the kid loved summer days like this. He knew from Claire's updates that Fawkes hadn't been allowed out of the facility since day one.

His sad reflection was brought to and abrupt halt by the beep of his cell phone. Flipping it open he smiled broadly as soon as he heard Claire's voice.

"Keepie. How ya doin? How's my boy?" His smile faded the instant a distraught Claire told him that she no longer had access to Darien and that she was on her way back to San Diego.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Where was Claire?_

Darien couldn't remember how he'd got back to his quarters or how long he'd been there, just a fragmented recollection of voices and of firm hands carrying him, and then for a while….nothing.

Now as he lay on his bed waiting, he knew with an agonizing certainty that they'd done something to him. The headache that still lingered testimony to the fact that he'd been sedated, even if he hadn't been able to tell from the yellowish bruising on his forearm where the needles had gone in. The back of his neck was sore too, and that's what terrified him the most, as that meant they'd probably messed with _the gland_. Tentative probing with shaky fingers had found the puncture wound to confirm his fears.

He'd been lured into a false sense of security by the bastards he knew that now, and he cursed himself for dropping his guard so easily. The new living accommodation, the easing up on personal security all the supposed 'rewards' for his co-operation had just been a means to an end, probably to keep him settled while their scientists perfected whatever nasty he now had in his head.

He was also deeply concerned about his Keeper. He couldn't recall exactly how long it had been since he'd last seen her, a few hours, a couple of days? Time had very little meaning when you had no sunrise or sunset as a point of reference. He mulled over the fact that he'd always taken the passing of day and night and even the seasons for granted, but being locked away 24/7 certainly gave a man time to reflect.

When the door clicked open Darien gazed up to see Ella Craven, leaning casually in the doorway. She arched an eyebrow appreciatively, letting her eyes roam over his long frame stretched out on the bed, until he pushed himself upright and then rose to face her. "Don't get up on my account. I was just appreciating the view."

The woman took a few steps into the room and he instinctively backed up until his legs touched the edge of the bed and he could go no further.

Ella's hand reached out to trace a route with her fingers from his cheek, down over his neck and then to the well defined pectoral muscles underneath his t-shirt, her hand rested there for a moment before continuing down over his taut stomach muscles, her gaze holding his the entire time. Only when her fingers snaked beneath the waist band of his pants did he react, catching her wrist and batting it to one side. Cold anger flared in her eyes, only to be replaced an instant later by the usual sardonic smirk.

"Darien honey, you really must learn to relax, or how are we ever going to become friends?"

Sartori and one of the security team stepped into the room behind her.

"Mr. Spelling wants to see you my sweet." She gestured towards the open doorway, and a slight hesitation had Sartori grabbing his shoulder and shoving him roughly out into the corridor. Darien's temper snapped at that moment and he rounded on the larger man facing him down, his eyes blazing with a burning rage he hadn't felt since the pre-cure days of QSM.

"Keep your freakin' dirty hands off me you son of a bitch!"

There wasn't much that Sartori really feared, but for the briefest of moments a flicker of uncertainty touched his heavy features, which he quickly checked and replaced with a slow mocking grin.

"The kid's finally grown some balls, huh!" Taking a threatening step towards Darien his huge hands already clenched into tight fists; the younger man standing his ground in readiness. Ella placed herself between the two. Her back to Darien, a firm palm in the center of Sartori's chest.

"Bruno. This is _not_ the time." The big man tried to steady his breathing, staring from Ella and then over her shoulder to where Fawkes now stood with the guard's automatic pressed into his neck. He'd like nothing more than to get hold of the smartass and beat the living crap out of him, but he knew she was right. His time was coming though and then Darien Fawkes would get a lesson he'd _never_ forget.

Ella stared intently into Sartori's eyes seeing the tension ease. She touched his cheek quickly before turning to the guard covering Darien with his weapon.

"Bring him along now. We're already late".

* * *

Jonas Spelling was the first person Darien saw as he was pushed into the briefing room. 

The Director of the DoD sat at the conference table a folder in front of him, with Dr. Wesley Carter on his left.

Darien was forced down into the chair next to Carter; Sartori and the guard taking up position immediately behind while Ella moved to her usual place to Spelling's right.

"Where's Claire? And what the hell have you bastards done to me?" He cast an accusatory glance in Carter's direction, but the Doctor just stared ahead refusing to meet his gaze.

Spelling allowed himself a half smile as he pushed the folder across the table to Darien, who chose to ignore it just as he thought he would. Events over the last 24hrs couldn't have gone better; all that was left now was for this unique asset to be reigned in once and for all.

"Dr. Keeply has decided to take some time out."

"That's a pile of crap,"" Darien spat back at the man. "She wouldn't go without telling me. If you've hurt her…."

"Now why would we want to hurt an important and valued member of our team…not quite as valuable as you, but I can assure you she's in perfectly good health. She's asked to be relieved of her 'keeper' duties to concentrate on research, which as you know was always her particular field of expertise. I believe she's en route to San Diego even as we speak," Spelling let his words trail off, pleased to see the first hint of uncertainty in the younger man's eyes. Good, he wanted him off guard.

"As for you Darien, all we've _done_ is to put a little something into your head to ensure you behave yourself and to protect our investment. We can't have you putting old loyalties before new now can we?"

At a signal Dr. Carter passed something over the table to Ella Craven, which looked like a small digital watch. The woman picked it up and studied it for a moment with a slow smile of anticipation spreading across her face, before shifting her gaze slowly to meet Darien's; his internal alarms bells began jangling big time.

"There's no time like the present. I think a little demonstration might be in order." Spelling indicated to Ella who was already snapping the trigger device to her left wrist. She nodded, pushed the seat out from under her and stood.

Almost in reflex, Darien got to his feet a second or two behind her, not altogether surprised when no rough hands were there to sit him back down forcibly. Sartori and the guard had backed off, probably on an unspoken order from Spelling or Ella.

"Uh, guys, it's okay. No demonstration necess…..SHIT!"

White hot, searing agony is the only way he could describe the sudden, intense explosion in his head that overwhelmed him like nothing he had ever experienced before. He thought the painful onset of quicksilver madness had been his worst nightmare but this, this was excruciating. Almost without realizing he dropped heavily to his knees grabbing both sides of his head in desperation, an anguished cry leaving him before he could stop it.

Some part of his subconscious shouted at him to remember the breathing techniques that Claire had helped him perfect to get through the QSM migraines, but for the moment he couldn't think straight while IT pulsated in his head, each wave bringing forth a new torment. Through pain drenched eyes he could see them all staring down at him watching with barely concealed excitement.. Then the misery intensified as another wave sent the pain surging down his spine and into the muscles and nerve endings in his arms and legs, and he rolled onto his side on the floor.

"_Please…stop,_" he managed. His body arching as yet another agonizing spasm took hold.

"That's enough," Carter snapped at Ella. Despite his initial eagerness to see if his nano-bug actually worked once implanted, something within him was now repelled by this man's suffering.

Spelling looked from Carter to Craven, before finally gesturing to the woman to stop.

For the briefest moment he thought Ella might actually disobey him, knowing all too well the pleasure she elicited from pain, particularly other peoples pain. Then with a smile she depressed one of the small buttons on the side of the device and Darien let out a long, gasping sob, staying on the floor as his body trembled involuntarily.

"Well, that was…..interesting!" Ella found it hard to contain her excitement as her eyes found Sartori's across the room. The big man nodded back at her, understanding immediately. No words were necessary between the two companions.

_Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. _

Even though the pain had ebbed away, Darien's system needed time to recover from the 'after shock', and he wondered how in hell he was going to get his body to obey him when even getting up off the damn floor was proving a near impossibility. After a second attempt to pull himself to his feet ended without success Sartori's large hand suddenly appeared in front of him, and he surprised even himself when he reached out allowing the man to help him up the rest of the way, swaying on unsteady legs before dropping heavily down into a chair.

Spelling waited for Darien to regain some composure before continuing.

"Now perhaps you realize that your position at the DoD is permanent and non-negotiable. Any acts of defiance or bad behavior on your part will be punished Darien. It's time to forget the past and to look ahead to your future with us." He studied him intently.

"I'm actually surprised that you would still feel any loyalty towards the Agency and Dr. Keeply in particular, considering she's been lying to you for such a long time."

Running a trembling hand over his face and eyes to clear the tiny beads of sweat, Darien lifted his gaze to stare at Spelling across the table, wishing he had the strength to make it over there and wipe the look of false concern off the bastards face. Instead he opened his mouth and walked straight into Spelling's carefully bated trap, as anticipated

"What do you mean? Claire would _never_ lie to me. Not now."

Spelling stood and came around the table. "So if that's the case why did she keep up the pretence of looking for a way to harvest the gland safely, when she's known for some considerable time that it's now an impossibility?"

Darien stared up at the older man, real confusion in his dark eyes.

"But, that, that's not true, she didn't…."

Holding up a hand to quiet his newest recruit Spelling settled himself against the table at his side.

"We all know that the only reason you were implanted with the gland in the first place is because your brother Kevin was desperate to get you out of prison, and desperate men do desperate things. Even so, he would never have gone ahead with the procedure had he not been confident he could remove it without harming you, though that was obviously before he knew about Dr. De Thiel's creative little mutation and eventual betrayal.

"By the time you used Kevin's memory RNA to bring him back it was already too late, the gland had begun to develop and integrate within your cerebral cortex. Kevin couldn't face telling you the truth, that you'd never be free of it, so he chose the easiest way out by spinning you the whole 'it's made you a better man' line."

"NO. " Darien started to rise angrily, but in an instant those hands were back to restrain him.

Spelling continued ignoring the little interruption as if it were of no real significance.

"And do you know the reason why Dr. Keeply and The Agency were all perfectly happy to go along with your brother's deception Darien? Because he also discovered that transplanting the gland to another host isn't a viable option any more either. Without you it can't function, it will die. You've unwittingly become a more effective receptacle than they could ever have hoped for."

He waited for the words to sink in and even though Darien refused to make eye contact with him, Spelling had his full attention and he knew it. Opening the file on the table he tapped the first page of the large bound document within, fingering the edge before sliding it a little closer to Darien.

"It's all here, " he gently cajoled. "Dr. Keeply's data also makes for very interesting reading. Dr. Carter has been studying all of the research for some considerable time now, I'm sure he would be more than happy to answer any questions you might have."

The doctor nodded soberly.

Darien was completely numb not knowing what was real any more; not caring, but knowing that he should, really. Spellings next words cut into him like a knife and for the first time in a very long time he felt truly lost.

""She lied to _keep_ you Darien, they all did. " Spelling paused momentarily to carefully calculate the moment for his decisive strike.

"She even lied to you about Agent Hobbes. The messages from him, news on his 'supposed' recovery." His tone adopting what he felt was just the right degree of empathy . "I suppose she did it to spare you the anguish." With that he slid a separate sheet of paper towards Darien. "This is a specialist's report on your partner's condition, confirming fears that his injuries have led to a permanent vegetative state."

Shaking his head not wanting to believe this man, even though his feverish and confused mind was telling him otherwise, Darien stood and backed away from the table.

"That's a pile of crap, " he tried vainly "You're just trying to manipulate me but it won't work, not this time."

"Believe what you will Darien."

"Then why go to the trouble of putting this, this thing in my head? If everything you say is true then to hell with the Agency, I don't owe them a damn thing."

"A temporary measure, your Handler will only use it as a last resort." Spelling put what was intended as a reassuring hand on Darien's shoulder.

A heavy silence filled the room, until Spelling calculated the prime moment to reel in the I-Man once and for all.

"I'll make you a deal. You co-operate, follow orders to the letter, obey your Handler without question and in time we'll move you out of this facility. New home, new identity, new life, you can even chose your assignments, no pressure from us."

What the hell. Bobby was gone and Claire had left him anyway, just walked out without even a goodbye and with her the last tenuous strands of his old life in San Diego.

The belief that his partner would never give up on him had been the main reason he'd managed to keep it together and not completely lose hope during these long weeks of enforced confinement. If Bobby wasn't out there then he really had nothing left, nowhere else to go.

After a long moment Darien lifted his lifeless gaze to Spelling and nodded slowly, knowing that this simple act meant he was effectively turning his back on everything he'd come to love…and trust.

He did make one promise to himself though; that first chance he got he would put as much distance between himself and government service as possible. He'd been lied to used and manipulated one time too many. For now though he had no choice but to bide his time and play their game.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

"**The Seeds of Destiny"**

**Chapter 5**

**One Month Later**

"Get dressed Fawkes we're going on a little trip," Sartori ordered, tossing a pile of clothing at Darien, his look alone a warning that he should do what he was told.

"Do it quickly," Ella Craven said with a wicked grin from the open doorway of Darien's quarters, "unless you want Bruno to do it for you. I'm sure he'd enjoy that."

"'Kay I'm dressin', I'm dressin'."

Darien removed his white t-shirt before pulling on the black turtle neck from the top of the pile over his head, all the while aware that both Ella and Sartori were watching him; turning his back as he replaced his sweats for a pair of dark gray jeans.

He had one foot on the bed tying the lace on his second boot when he saw Ella withdraw a small syringe from her pocket, casually motioning for him to roll up the sleeve of his sweater. He knew the routine well enough now to realize that any hesitation would only mean punishment of some kind, so he did what he was told, extending his arm obediently towards her with a sigh.

"Good boy!" Ella smiled up at him as she slid the needle easily into a vein and injected the sedative into his system. Nothing too heavy this time, as they wanted him fully alert and briefed by first light. As she finished, Sartori tossed Darien a black suede jacket.

He had to admit the clothes felt really good against his skin after weeks of wearing nothing but scrubs or sweat pants and they were obviously expensive, not something he would ordinarily have bought for himself. But then the whole thrift store, retro look had been part of the old Darien and his former life. He'd also let them cut his hair into a much shorter sleeker style.

"Hmm…very, very nice." Ella eyed him appreciatively before turning on her heels and leaving the room; a prod in the back from Sartori had Daren following her out into the corridor pulling on the jacket as he walked.

By the time they had reached ground level and the waiting jeep parked right outside the main doors to the facility, the effect of the sedative had started to kick in and Darien's world began a slow spin as he was hustled towards the vehicle, surrounded on all sides by Ella, Sartori and two guards who had materialized as soon as they had exited the elevator.

Bruno and one of the men jumped into the front, with Darien positioned between Ella and the second guard in the back, her hand coming to rest on the top of his thigh, fingers softly and sensually stroking upwards. Despite the sedative and despite his complete distrust and dislike for his Handler, he found his body – or a part of it - reacting in the most basic way to her touch: he shifted uneasily. He knew even without looking in her direction that she would find this amusing, so concentrated instead on his first view of the outside world in many weeks; he'd lost track of how long he'd been here now.

It was early evening and the sun had started its hazy descent towards the horizon, but the heat of the day still lingered and he savored the sweet smell of pure fresh air, along with the warm, invigorating desert breeze on his face as the jeep raced out towards the private landing strip a mile from the facility.

All too soon they were on board one of the DoD's fleet of private jets, with Darien seated mid section; Ella across the aisle from him and Bruno right behind. The two guards who had boarded with them sat at the very front near the cockpit.

Darien stared out of the small window at the already darkening sky as the plane soared upwards, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Don't fight it Darien, we've got a busy day tomorrow and you need your beauty sleep," Ella's voice came softly across the small divide, her hand reaching over to take his.

"You at least gonna tell me where we're going?" His voice had already started to slur.

"That's 'need to know', for the moment anyway," she advised smoothly.

"Ah, the ole _need to know_. " he smiled vaguely, voice trailing away as he settled back in his seat listening to the drone of the jet engines, before finally giving up the fight as the sedative won the battle of wills and claimed him.

* * *

When he came awake it was morning, and for one heady moment he thought he was back in his old apartment in San Diego. Rays of early sunlight filtered in through a small gap in the curtains covering the large window opposite the bed.

Darien rolled onto his back, his hand absently rubbing his eyes as he tried to clear them and focus properly on his surroundings, which he soon realized was a large and very luxurious hotel suite. A sigh and then a warm body stirred in the bed beside him, just before a long shapely arm snaked out from beneath the covers to settle across his bare chest.

"Aw, crap!" A quick check confirmed that he was completely naked and that the woman nestled beside him was Ella Craven. He had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten there.

Ella sighed, her hand moving to rest on the top of his inner thigh and Darien flinched as her fingers began making soft circles now even though she appeared to be asleep, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of bed without waking her. He could see his clothing folded into a neat pile on a chair across the room. All he needed to do was gently lower one leg off the side, ease himself over slightly and…."Aaaggh!"

Darien shot bolt upright and practically fell out of the bed in shock, landing in a confused heap on the floor beside the nightstand as Ella's hand found something far more interesting than his thigh beneath the sheets.

"Morning," she chuckled playfully, pulling her sleepy face up and out of the pillows to stare at him in amusement. "Well I certainly didn't get _that_ reaction last night." She raised her eyebrows suggestively, relishing his obvious discomfort.

"Last night? You mean…?"

Ella nodded, giving him a meaningful wink. "Oh yeah!"

"I don't remember a thing." Looking confused Darien ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He vaguely remembered the plane landing...somewhere…and of another journey by car but not much else…until now.

"Well that's your loss honey," she purred. "You obviously do your best work when you're in bye bye land. Ask Bruno," indicating towards the other side of the room where the huge man lay sprawled on the sofa, snoring loudly.

"Aw…CRAP!

Ella laughed again as she sat up on the bed letting the sheet fall, and despite himself Darien's eyes were drawn to her stunning body. She stretched lazily, relishing the effect she knew it had on him.

"Don't fret baby. Bruno just watched. Though I know he'd like to join us some time if you're willing." Eyeing Darien hungrily she patted the vacant spot beside her. "Why don't we try it again now that you're uh…," her gaze shifted deliberately to his groin, "awake?"

Quickly snagging a small section of the sheet that had followed his tumble from the bed, he pulled it across his lower body, consciously enforcing some degree of control with one of the quick breathing techniques he normally used to suppress the quicksilver flow. "Uh, don't we… uh… have to be somewhere, you know, spy business?"

Rising with a cat like grace from the bed, Ella walked across the room towards what Darien assumed was the bathroom. "You're probably right sweet thing, duty calls. Jonas will be here soon to brief us so no more playtime for you until tonight, unless you want to join me in the shower?"

With an amused smile she turned her attention to the hulk lying on the sofa. "Bruno, get your lazy ass up and ready." Blowing Darien a soft kiss she disappeared into the bathroom.

Forty minutes later Darien had also showered shaved and dressed. He'd been given a bag with a complete change of clothing and underwear and various other essential items including an electric razor and toothbrush. The jeans from the previous evening were so comfortable he decided to wear them again, but swapped the sweater for a black long sleeved cotton shirt leaving it hanging loose over his pants. The fit was amazing, almost as if it had been made just for him and he studied the reflection of Darien Fawkes mark 2 in the mirror; the new, sleeker model. _'If Bobby could just see me _now." He let the thought trail away, no point going down that road.

He came out of the bathroom to find Spelling, Ella and Sartori sitting on the two big white leather sofas in the room, speaking quietly. They were obviously waiting for him. Ella tapped the seat beside her expectantly as he dropped his bag by the bathroom door and moved across to join them, ever the obedient little pet poodle he thought to himself with not much humor.

The curtains in the suite had been drawn back to reveal large glass sliding doors leading out onto an impressive balcony hovering high above a city; but what city? He craned his neck slightly to see if he could recognize a familiar landmark, a building, anything to give him a clue as to their location. He also realized with a touch of irony, that this was the first real glimpse of daylight he'd had for far too long.

Spelling eyed Darien with approval as he took his place on the couch beside his Handler. .Ella and Sartori had done an excellent job of smoothing Fawkes' rough edges; he might still have a very long way to go to prove himself as a DoD operative, Spelling thought, but at least now he looked the part; a world away from the unkempt punk they'd originally been presented with.

A small laptop computer lay open on the low glass coffee table and Spelling turned it in Darien's direction, to reveal a series of surveillance photographs of a man in his mid-forties, with a dark, swarthy complexion.

"Stefan Largo. Convicted industrial thief and arms dealer; he'll do just about anything for anybody if the price is right. Strictly small time up until about 18 months ago, then his fortune took a turn for the better, coincidently around the same time as the first raid on one of our facilities. The prototype for a new weapon was stolen on that occasion."

Spelling studied the man sitting across from him and was pleased to see that he had his full attention.

"Since then there have been five more robberies, all well planned and well executed by Largo and his gang. They're stealing our research and technology to order."

The mug shot images of three men and a woman flashed on the screen, their ages ranging from early twenty-something to late thirties.

"The last one took place just under a month ago on a small research laboratory in Arizona. They are working on a number of…uh… highly sensitive biological projects at this particular facility, among them a nerve agent, a Sarin derivative, which has the working title of GS-2."

Darien glared at the man. "Nerve Gas, you're making Nerve Gas," he spat incredulously. "I thought that stuff had been banned."

"The GS-2 was only developed for research purposes," Spelling responded defensively. "We never intended to actually use it or for it to leave the facility."

"Well, hey man, that's a relief," Darien offered sarcastically, ignoring the warning glare from Sartori. "Why the hell do you people think up stuff like this in the first place? It's almost like you want some crazy bastard to hold the world to ransom." He let loose a derisive snort of laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. "Largo stole it, right?"

"The one and only canister," Spelling confirmed. "There's absolutely no way they could have pulled off these raids without inside intel - they were too well briefed on the layout of each facility, staffing at any given time of day or night and, of course, the security protocol. Therefore, it's not only imperative that we get the canister back, but we also need to bring Largo or one of his team in for questioning".

He tapped the keyboard and a moment later an aerial map appeared on screen.

"We've tracked them here to Chicago, and if our intel is correct Largo plans to sell the GS-2 to the highest bidder. By all accounts there are a lot of very interested parties."

_Well, at least now I know where 'here' is! _Darien thought wryly.

"We can't afford to let it fall into the wrong hands," Ella added. He could feel the heat of her body next to his as she pressed in close. "So that's…"

"Where I come in?" Darien finished for her helpfully.

She gave his thigh a gentle squeeze, smiling indulgently. "Good to see that 'above average intelligence' at work baby."

"We've had Largo and his group under surveillance for the past 48 hours," Spelling indicated an area to the north of the city near Lake Michigan. "As you can see it's densely populated, an attempted evacuation would just tip them off so we can't risk moving in until the canister is secured."

"And that's where I come in," Darien mumbled again.

"Precisely!" The Director of the DoD confirmed. "We're sending you in solo with your Handler as control. All you have to do is positively ID Largo and his gang, pinpoint their exact location within the building for our ops team, then grab the canister and get the hell out."

Darien stared back at him suspiciously. "And that's it?"

"Of course." Spelling tried his version of a friendly smile which quite frankly sent a chill up Darien's spine that had nothing at all to do with quicksilver.

* * *

"Uh...guys. It looks as if the nerve gas ain't the only thing Largo has on special offer."

Darien kept his voice low, almost a whisper, as he crouched down behind some of the larger crates piled into the basement of the abandoned building, shedding his quicksilver cloak for the moment at least. Even though he now had unlimited use of the gland without risk of turning into a raving red-eyed psychotic, using it over a prolonged period tended to sap his energy levels big time, and he had a weird premonition he was going to need all the energy he could muster before the night was over.

He turned his head so that his Handler and the Special Ops team monitoring his progress from their surveillance vehicle two blocks away, could see what he was seeing via the miniature camera built into his black knit hat; row upon row of crates containing an arsenal of assorted weaponry, including semi-automatic rifles, handguns, grenades plus a few items he couldn't identify but was sure were bound to be bad news.

A few seconds later Ella's voice crackled back in his ear. "Any sign of the canister?"

Darien sighed knowing that was his cue to move, pushing himself to his feet and letting the icy coating flow over his body once again.

The ramshackle factory building, now the temporary hide-out of Stefan Largo and his gang, was located in a run-down district to the north of the city about an hours drive from their hotel and Darien, accompanied as always by Ella, Sartori and his two 'close protection' guards, had arrived in yet another dark SUV just after midnight.

He'd been hastily escorted to the back of another nondescript government van and kitted out with the essential items of equipment for the mission, including the prerequisite miniature camera and headset along with a set of lock picks and a small aerosol can which he was told contained a fast acting sedative; just one spray would be enough to render someone unconscious for at least 30 minutes. As he wasn't going to be carrying a weapon of any kind he would need something to help him subdue the bad guys.

The final piece of gear was a back pack which Sartori strapped into place over Darien's black turtle neck sweater once they were left alone in the van, with a stern warning that it was not to be opened unless the order was given. The big man's threatening stance was all that was needed to stop Darien even from asking what the lightweight bag contained; he knew he'd find out soon enough.

A half hour later after a full briefing and a look at an old architects map of the building, Darien sat quietly in the side doorway of the van waiting for the signal to go in, his 'minders' hovering close by to discourage any unauthorized personnel from approaching or talking to him. He could sense the curiosity and tension from the special ops team who were itching to storm the building, wondering why this one man warranted such high level security crap.

For the most part Darien had been glad of the enforced solitude as he fought to quell the first wave of butterflies in his stomach, before remembering wistfully that Bobby Hobbes had always taught him nerves were good; kept you focused, stopped you from getting too cocky, and he found himself wishing not for the first time that his former partner and friend was there to watch his back.

Getting into the old factory building from the door in the back alleyway had gone without a hitch, the locks were pretty standard and it had taken him under a minute to get them both open. Lousy security considering the artillery Largo had stashed down there, Darien mused.

Now his Handler's voice in his earpiece guided him through the gloom of the basement to a stone staircase over on the far side, which would lead him to the upper levels of the building. There were five stories in all and if the intel was right then he'd find Largo, his pals and hopefully the infamous canister of GS-2 somewhere on the top floor.

Slowly he began his ascent, keeping his back to the wall and carefully picking his way through the garbage and rubble littering the steps, aware that a random noise out of place in the dead of night would bring all the bad guys down on him and probably pissed as hell and armed to the teeth when they came out in force to greet their unwelcome visitor.

Up past the third and fourth floors; his quicksilvered vision better than any flashlight in the darkened building.

At the fifth floor he took a moment to catch his breath, Ella's voice back in his ear.

"Largo should be in the second from last room at the end of the corridor. Stay alert!"

"That's my middle name," he quipped, his voice barely a whisper as he started along the corridor; each of the old weathered wooden floorboards threatening a creaky protest beneath his weight. One of the rudimentary requirements of any good cat burglar was stealth and he now put this skill to good use, finely honed from years of sneaking unlawfully around other people's property, his thick rubber-soled boots barely scraping the floor as he moved.

As Darien reached the doorway he put his back against the wall and leaned in, listening intently. Silence. Cautiously he gripped the handle, turning it as gently as possible, relieved that the door didn't creak as he eased it open little by little. A small lantern positioned on the floor over in one corner of the room cast a warm glow over its two occupants, curled up in sleeping bags on the floor, their handguns within arms length.

The woman sleeping nearest the door was in her early 20s at a guess; the man in the other sleeping bag underneath the boarded up window; Stefan Largo. Darien grinned. This had been easier than expected.

Crossing the room fast he grabbed up both weapons, tucking one into the waistband underneath his sweater in the small of his back. With his other hand he reached into his pocket and withdrew the small aerosol and gave a quick spray into the face of the still sleeping young woman, who in an instant went from sleep to deep unconsciousness without ever realizing it; she'd just wake up with the killer of all hangovers. Satisfied, Darien moved across to Largo and in one fluid motion had the muzzle of the gun pressed firmly against his temple.

The man stirred and then half opened his eyes a moment later when the cold steel prodded him again, his eyes bulging in outright panic as he realized a gun was apparently hovering in mid air above him, a disembodied voice close to his ear whispered menacingly. "Up ya get. Nice n' easy does it."

Darien backed up a few paces to allow the man to climb out of the sleeping bag and get to his feet, at the same time letting the quicksilver flake from his body. Largo looked as if he was about to have a seizure of epic proportions.

"H…how did you do that?"

Grinning and keeping his voice low he leaned in close as if about to share a confidence. "It's an old family secret."

He jabbed the gun a little harder this time into Largo's chest to make his point. "I believe you have something that belongs to the United States government buddy and they want it back."

The look of feigned confusion from the man brought forth a derisive snort of laughter from Darien. Largo might be a lot of things but he was obviously a terrible liar and judging from the lax security and the ease with which Darien had been able to get into his hideout, probably not much of a chief bad guy either. He absently wondered if the robbery at the lab had been a fluke; this clown definitely couldn't have pulled it off without some inside help.

"Let's play a little game pal." Darien's smile was almost charming and his tone amiable, but the underlying menace sent a shiver down the other man's spine. "Uh, it's called 'You give me the damned GS-2 canister, or I'll give you another hole to add to the ones nature intended'." Even as the words left his mouth Darien realized with amusement that they sounded like something straight out of the Bobby Hobbes handbook of fed speak; his partner would have been proud.

Largo gulped as the gun moved from his torso up to the center of his forehead, Darien's finger gently stroking the trigger for added emphasis.

Too scared to take his eyes off Darien the man pointed a nervous finger towards a metallic silver container which sat on the floor over by the far wall. A moment later he stared in wide-eyed disbelief as the tall man held an aerosol in front of him and then cool moisture covered his face.

"Nighty, night!" Were the last words he heard as he crumpled to the floor unconscious, Darien catching the limp body before it impacted, easing him down gently the rest of the way; no need to disturb the neighbors.

Wasting no time now Darien moved across to the container and snapped the locks opening the lid to reveal the small black canister of GS-2 nestled comfortably within a padded interior.

"Good boy." Ella's delighted voice purred at him through the headset; he'd almost forgotten that she and whoever else was with her in the DoD surveillance vehicle – probably Sartori - had seen and heard everything. "Now bring it on home to mamma."

"Yes ma'am," Darien muttered sarcastically as he picked up the small canister with both hands. He knew that just dropping it wouldn't do any damage but nonetheless its potentially lethal contents deserved a degree of caution.

"Okay, I'm coming out." Darien breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way out into the hallway and back towards the staircase.

"You haven't finished yet." Ella's voice stopped him in his tracks, his foot poised over the first step. Those internal alarm bells were jangling again.

"Open the bag Darien." Her voice was soft, but he knew by the tone that she expected to be obeyed without question. He hesitated and she spoke again, more insistent this time. "Open it, or do I need to remind you who's in control?"

Darien shuddered involuntarily at the memory of the many painful 'training sessions' he'd endured with her and Sartori since the bug had been implanted. Spelling's assurance that it was only to be used as a last resort had obviously been lost on his Handler, and he'd quickly come to realize that she got an almost perverse pleasure from punishing him, seeing him writhing on the floor at her feet pleading for the pain to stop. And even more disturbing had been his willingness after a while to do anything it took to avoid it; each incident chipping away little by little at any remaining self-respect..

With a muttered curse he placed the canister down carefully on the floor and hauled the small bag from his back laying it at his feet. Crouching to open it, he felt a surging rage, even though he wasn't all that surprised to find himself staring at the compact explosive device. "No…."

"Set the timer for 5 minutes," she ordered. "And then get your cute ass the hell out of there."

"Ella, there's no need for this, I got what we came for." His hand rubbed the back of his head anxiously. "I…I thought we needed to take at least one of them alive for questioning. Why not just send in the ops team and…"

She sounded impatient. "The plans have changed. We now have everything we need, Largo and Co are expendable." To emphasize her point, Ella hissed the final words. "_Now, do… as… you're… told_."

Bracing himself for the inevitable, even though the anticipation did nothing at all to lessen the agonizing jolt when it came, wrenching him forward. Darien fought back with some hidden reserve of strength that he didn't know he still possessed to suppress a sharp cry of pain. Then abruptly it was all over and he let out a jagged breath in relief, detesting himself for his fear… and for what he was about to do.

With shaking hands he set the digital timer as ordered, casting one desolate look back to the end of the hallway where two people now lay unconscious thanks to him, with absolutely no chance of getting clear before the bomb detonated. He also knew that at least three more of Largo's team still slept in the other rooms, oblivious to their impending fate. To his mind they at least deserved the chance to face a proper federal court of law. This was cold-blooded murder.

"Darien!" She was even angrier now he could tell and he would probably pay for it later. With another deep breath to steady his resolve he leaned down and quickly activated the countdown mechanism.

Grabbing the canister he moved fast, taking the stairs three at a time and bursting through the basement door back into the alleyway at the same precise moment as the first violent explosion overhead rocked the entire building.

He ran fast and low in an attempt to dodge the debris raining down like missiles, and was halfway along the narrow path when a glancing blow on the head from a heavy piece of masonry sent him tumbling to the ground, where he stayed breathing heavily while trying to shake off a sudden intense bout of dizziness and nausea. Finally his guts contracted violently and the projectile vomit spilled from him until he was just dry heaving.

Wiping his mouth with his sleeve he risked a furtive glance upwards and saw that the two top floors had been completely decimated; the entire building about to be consumed by a fire already raging out of control. A shout and footsteps pounded down the alleyway towards him, then rough hands were grabbing at him and hauling him clear, over to where the surveillance vehicle was now parked across the street.

Pandemonium had broken out with everyone now converging on the scene; people running, voices raised in panic and confusion, shouted orders, everything merging with the noise of a second smaller explosion and the old building starting to collapse in on itself. Sirens wailed somewhere off in the distance.

Sartori had taken the canister and handed it straight to Ella as Darien was dumped by the side of the vehicle where he weakly crawled on all fours, coughing as his stomach threatened another major revolt, bloody tendrils streaking down his face and into his eyes from the deep gash on his head.

There was a commotion off to his left and he immediately sensed Sartori and the two guards moving in to form a protective cordon around him and the reason was clear a few seconds later when Agent Crosby, the leader of the Special Ops team, came storming towards them. The man looked thoroughly pissed off.

"Is someone going to tell me what the fuck just happened?" Most of his fury was directed straight at Darien who could only stare back miserably from his prone position on the ground, unable to react in even the most basic way.

Ella stepped into Crosby's path as the man tried to slip past one of her agents to get to Darien. She shrugged. "Largo must have rigged the place to blow."

"Bullshit!" the man spat out at her, directing an accusatory glare in Darien's direction. "I want a word with your boy wonder."

"Fawkes did exactly what he was ordered to do," she snapped back, waving the GS-2 canister at him pointedly. "Mission accomplished. Now if you're quite finished we're leaving."

"The hell you are. Someone's got to explain this total fuck up to Director Spelling and it sure as hell ain't gonna be me."

She sighed dramatically. "Which is precisely what I intend to do as soon as the canister is in a safe place. Now if you don't mind..." Turning gracefully on her heels and with Crosby staring incredulously after her, Ella walked straight to the SUV parked a short distance away, engine already revving in preparation for their hasty departure.

Irritably swatting away the hands trying to force him to his feet Darien clambered up on unsteady legs using the side of the surveillance vehicle as leverage, casting one last disconsolate look back over his shoulder at the shattered remains of the building before following his Handler to the vehicle and silently climbing into the back beside her.

* * *

They headed straight out to O'Hare International airport where the jet was fuelled and waiting on the runway. The moment they were on board and the door closing behind them, Sartori's hand clamped vice like around Darien's upper arm, his other hand held out expectantly in front of him palm upwards.

"Hand it over."

"Hand what over?" He asked innocently.

Without warning the big man punched Darien hard in the stomach, folding him over and he collapsed to his knees gasping like a fish out of water, the sudden and intense impact of the blow making it impossible for him to utter more than the smallest whimper. Then hands were all over him searching beneath his clothing; Sartori tugging the handgun from Darien's waistband and waving it in his face.

"This, smartass." He smacked Darien around the back of the head before continuing to expertly pat him down to ensure he hadn't tried to sneak any other little surprises on board.

Darien had genuinely forgotten about the gun which he'd tucked into the small of his back, having lost the other one sometime during his rapid exit from the exploding building.

'He's clean," Sartori confirmed to Ella who was watching the entire episode from her seat.

"Well that's a matter of opinion,." she responded with amusement, checking out his torn and soiled clothing, matted hair and his bloodied and dirty face; all in all a pretty pathetic sight.

"Go take a shower baby, you deserve it."

Darien nodded, somehow managing to get unaided to his feet. Bent double and with one hand pressed firmly to his throbbing abdomen he moved with difficulty through the cabin to the small bathroom located at the rear of the plane, grabbing his bag from the aisle as he passed. Once inside he leaned back against the bathroom door, closing his eyes and taking big gulping breaths as various emotions washed over him; fatigue, remorse, pain and then a wave of intense relief as he opened his hand and shook off the quicksilver flakes from the small aerosol can.

* * *

"What do you mean you don't know where they are?" Spelling was incandescent with rage as he listened to Agent Crosby's account of the disastrous events in Chicago.

"The plane took off from O'Hare and then disappeared off the radar just under an hour ago Sir. They could be anywhere by now."

"Well find them dammit," he yelled into the phone.

How could it all have gone so disastrously wrong when the day had started with such promise? After Darien's briefing Spelling had flown back to Nevada to await an update on what he had no doubt would be a successful mission. They'd have the GS-2 back before his superiors even had to be told it was missing; and from Largo the name or names of the DoD traitor.

According to Crosby the mission had initially gone like clockwork with Fawkes successfully retrieving the canister, after that everything descended into complete chaos and Largo and his team were all believed to have perished in an explosion. Largo's death had never been sanctioned. In fact, they had desperately wanted him taken alive for questioning. Now Spelling had no nerve agent, no Largo and no I-Man.

Could things get any worse?

The phone rang again the instant after he slammed it down on Crosby, snatching up the receiver with a barked "What now?"

"Director Spelling," came the voice. "I believe you have something to tell us?"

* * *

As Darien emerged from the bathroom he sensed immediately that something was wrong.

He'd showered in the tiny cubicle and then changed into a fresh pair of black pants and a dark gray long-sleeved t-shirt, doing his best to clean the wound on his head which he suspected might need stitches - if the already spreading stain on the small hand towel he'd used as a compress was anything to go by.

Ella took the cloth, pushing him down into one of the chairs and began gently dabbing at the wound.

"Looks like you'll need some stitches," she confirmed planting a soft kiss on the spot before settling herself comfortably in the seat beside him.

Then Darien realized exactly what was missing. "Where is everybody?"

Reaching across, her fingers had begun to trace small circles on his chest.

"Bruno's flying the plane," she stated matter-of-factly.

By this time her hand had found its way beneath the soft material of his t-shirt and was stroking his chest and then down to the taut flesh of his abdomen. He winced as she nudged the spot where Sartori's fist had impacted; the bruising there was going to be spectacular.

"Uh, isn't that kinda what the pilot's for?" Leaning back in his seat he shifted a little as her caresses became more insistent, knowing he'd need to play by her rules if he wanted to survive this.

"The captain and your little minders had to get off," she purred her eyes flickering towards the doorway and she smiled at his momentary flash of panic. It took real effort for Darien to curb his natural instinct to freak out right there and then at the way she had so casually informed him that the pilot and his guards had been murdered.

Over the noise of the shower and the jet engines he hadn't heard a damn thing.

He turned to gaze out of the small window at the first hint of daylight on the distant horizon. "So I guess that means we're not heading for sweet home Nevada?"

"Uh, uh. We've got a buyer for the GS-2 in LA, a regular client of ours. We stole it to order or rather we had Largo and his team of incompetents steal it for us. But then he got too greedy; figured he could branch out on his own and make a deal behind my back. It's a mystery to me how he survived for so long. The man was a complete loser."

"But did we really need to…you know?"

"You should know me well enough by now _never_ to question me," she hissed, fingers raking painfully across his skin before standing suddenly and moving to the far side of the cabin; turning angrily to face him.

He'd witnessed enough of her violent and unpredictable mood swings to feel a deep sense of foreboding as she toyed with the trigger device strapped as always around her left wrist, hating himself that little bit more as the next pathetic words left his mouth.

"I'm…I'm sorry."

Ella watched Darien intently. There was something about this man that stirred intense feelings within her. The control she held over him was certainly a major part of that appeal.

Those deep brown eyes were staring at her now like a wounded animal and in that instant she made a decision. Darien closed his eyes and gave an audible sigh of relief as Ella walked back to take her seat, and when she started to speak again the easy tone of her voice surprised him

"Largo had to die," she stated with no hint of remorse. "The idiot left a trail a mile wide, it's not surprising Crosby's team managed to track him to Chicago so easily. They wanted him alive for questioning and I couldn't allow that; at least not until I had the GS-2…and you.

"Bruno and I have always had plans for you that don't involve the DoD, but you're a smart boy so you've probably already figured that out haven't you?"

Darien nodded.

The woman reclined back in her seat stretching her long body. "And now we're going freelance," she announced happily turning to stare at him to gauge his reaction before continuing. "We've already had a lot of very interesting offers for your…services."

He couldn't help the snort of laughter. "Well, so much for being top secret!"

"Baby in this business there's no such thing as 'top secret' believe me. You'd be surprised how many people know about the I-Man Project." Her hand reached out to touch his face. "You're a unique commodity. I've had more than one offer to buy you outright and the money's obscene. Hey, but don't worry, I've no intention of selling you to the highest bidder when it will be so much more lucrative for all of us if we just hire you out pro rata."

He took a moment to consider the whole proposition even though he had no real choice in the matter. Still she would expect it, which was why she would also expect the larcenist in him to ask the next question and he was never one to disappoint.

"So what exactly do I get out of this, I mean apart from the prospect of excruciating agony or a life long role as everyone's favorite lab rat?"

"In time a full partnership with me and Bruno…maybe." Her hand reached out again to brush his face but this time he caught her wrist.

"No maybes." His fingers tightened their grip but rather than resist and try to pull away she actually looked excited and he decided to ignore the unsettling feeling that gave him, continuing with his best tough punk impression. "I want a decent cut straight off. After all I'm gonna be the one taking all the risks."

Shifting fast and before he could even react Ella was out of her seat and straddling him. "I just knew there was more to you," she whispered huskily as she ran her eyes appreciatively up and down his body, her tongue darting out over parted lips.

Darien's hand went up to the nape of her neck roughly pulling her down and into him for a deep lingering kiss and when she pulled back a few minutes later it was to stare at him with a mixture of surprise and pleasure, along with a decent measure of outright lust. She had always initiated and controlled any physical contact between them before now; this was the first time he had actually taken the lead and it had caught her off guard.

Meanwhile, his fingers had begun slowly and deliberately tracing a path along her jaw line down her neck and then slipping beneath her shirt to cup a breast. Ella sighed, melting back into him as her lips pressed against his once again with an added urgency, hands finding their way back beneath his clothing, fingers splaying out across his chest.

"Is this a private party or can anyone join the fun?"

Sartori stood in the doorway of the cockpit huge arms folded across him and an amused grin creasing his heavy features, along with something else in his eyes that made Darien shudder.

Ella looked enquiringly at Darien. "I knew he'd want to play with you eventually."

_Crap, crappy, crap._

"There's certainly enough to go round." Her hand cupped his face. "I'm okay with it if you are baby?"

_Think. Think. _

"Hey, can't we just have a bit of time on our own," he whispered softly, brushing his lips across her neck. "Let's send little Bruno to the movies for the night, huh?"

A mischievous smile lit up her face and not even bothering to turn she snapped dismissively at the big man behind them. "Go fly the plane Bruno."

"It's on autopilot," came the sullen response.

"Well find something else to do. OUT"

A moment later he was gone, the cockpit door slamming shut with a bad-tempered thud.

Ella eyed Darien hungrily as her fingers started unbuttoning his pants. "Now where were we?"

* * *

He was exhausted! Energy levels at an all time low.

Cupping both hands together Darien hunched his sore and aching body over the small wash basin, splashing cold water on his face and relishing the instant reviving effect.

He studied his disheveled reflection in the bathroom mirror, his mind reeling with the events of the past 6 hours; had it really only been that long? In that relatively short space of time he had graduated from being the DoD's trained I-Man puppet and No. 1 lab rat and now it looked as if his next big career move would be to part time invisible assassin and possible fulltime sex slave. He sighed, casting a weary glance towards the closed bathroom door, knowing that she would be calling for him any minute now wondering what was taking him so long.

Despite everything he couldn't suppress a satisfied smirk; well it hadn't all been bad! Ella had more sexual prowess and imagination that just about anyone he'd ever met, but right now he had to focus and not allow anything to get in the way of his plan, and he did have a plan of sorts.

A short while before, Sartori had peered cautiously into the cabin to let Ella know they would be landing in approximately 30 minutes. Darien had been dozing at that point, hot, sweaty and totally drained from their physical exertions. Ella had been lying quietly in the seat beside him and he assumed she was resting too, but as soon as Bruno had disappeared back into the cockpit she reached across for Darien again, touching his face and then playing with the short strands of his hair. Groaning inwardly he pulled away and stood quickly.

Ella's hand snaked out to grab his in an effort to tug him playfully back towards her.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I need the uh...little boy's room."

"Okay baby, just don't be too long." She smiled at his retreating form and his attempts to re-arrange his clothing as he walked.

The aerosol was still tucked down behind the basin right where he'd hidden it earlier and he quickly retrieved and palmed it. Then taking one last look in the mirror he pulled open the door and returned to the cabin where Ella was waiting for him.

20 minutes later the plane had begun its final descent and below them Darien could see scattered outbuildings and a small deserted airstrip; but then they could hardly fly into LAX under the circumstances.

"Ella." His voice roused her from her light sleep and she opened her eyes smiling lazily. He was standing over her, fully dressed now and wearing the black suede jacket with his gray t-shirt; she thought he looked good enough to eat.

"Are we landing?" She stretched.

"Any minute now," he advised, and then. "There's something important I need to tell you..._baby_."

She eyed him curiously bringing her seat fully upright and staring up at him as he towered above her.

"Your uh, little business proposition…well it sucks!"

She moved fast but he was faster, quickly grabbing her wrists with one hand and using his body weight to effectively pin her down in the seat before she really had a chance to react.

"You ungrateful bastard," she spat venomously, still struggling against him even though it was pointless. "You'll regret this. I'm going to rip your pretty head off."

"Tut, tut. temper, temper," Darien scolded with a cocky smile. "And while we're on the subject, ungrateful for _what_ exactly?" He gazed at her questioningly. "For saving me from the nasty DoD, or for you getting off on zapping me with the freakin' gizmo in my head? Or because I've decided I'd rather take my chances out there on my own than become your tame invisible hit man!"

"Fawkes," she was almost screaming now and Darien cast a nervous glance over his shoulder at the closed cockpit door, thankful for the roar of the engines. "There's no way you're getting away from me gland boy," she snarled putting up another struggle.

"Lady, will you please give it a rest." The aerosol was in his free hand then and he held it up for a second or two so she could get a good look before hitting her right in the face with a long satisfying squirt, her surprised expression saying it all.

"How did…?" and then she was out cold, just like that. Darien gave it another few seconds to be sure and then released his hold, letting her slump sideways just as the plane touched down.

Working quickly now he grabbed her left wrist and pulled at the strap of the trigger device, slipping it into the pocket of his pants he made his way to the front of the plane.

Sartori shut down the jet engines and stared out of the cockpit window to the side of the abandoned runway to where a dark sedan sat waiting, exactly where he'd left it a week previously. Everything so far was running to schedule and he was pleased. They were going to make a _lot_ of money from this venture, enough to set them up for life.

Both he and Ella had suspected they were on borrowed time at the DoD anyway and had been plotting their departure for many months, the canister of nerve agent intended as part of their retirement fund. But then Fawkes had come along and Ella had insisted they take the chance and put their plans on hold for as long as possible.

The whole thing had nearly come crashing down on them when that stupid bastard Largo had screwed things up in Chicago, but Ella's idea to use Fawkes to resolve the problem had been a stroke of pure genius. Now they had the nerve agent, the Invisible Man and a long list of potential customers from every continent. Religious or political beliefs had never bothered them much before when trading DoD technology.

He was still smarting slightly over Ella's earlier dismissal, but there would be plenty of opportunity now to get his hands on Fawkes, and if the punk refused to play nice there was always the handy little bug in his head to force him to submit. Grinning at that thought, Sartori pulled on his jacket and opened the door into the main cabin.

The last thing he saw before something heavy came crashing down on his head was Ella slumped in her seat, and the last thing he heard was Darien's disembodied voice snarling at him. "That's for Bobby you bastard."

Discarding the quicksilver and breathing heavily, Darien tossed the small fire extinguisher on the floor beside the unconscious Sartori. He could just have easily used the aerosol on the big man, but where was the fun in that?

He'd spotted the car out of one of the windows and now searching through Sartori's clothes found a set of keys and palmed them. He also emptied the man's wallet stuffing a wad of dollar bills into the inside pocket of his own jacket.. With a final satisfied grin and the GS-2 canister tucked safely under his arm he stepped off the plane without a backward glance, tasting freedom for the first time in many weeks.


	6. Chapter 6

"**The Seeds of Destiny"**

**Chapter 6**

**San Diego **

Bobby Hobbes locked the door of the battered old van and shifted the heavy bag of groceries in his arms, fumbling for his door keys as he walked briskly towards his apartment.

It was a beautiful Californian afternoon with temperatures in the mid 70s and a light breeze coming in off the ocean.

On another weekday like this during what now seemed like another lifetime he would have been at work, but he hadn't much felt like work lately. He'd given it a damn good try though, but it just wasn't the same without Fawkes.

Yeah, the tall ex-thief had the capacity to annoy the hell out of him with his general tardiness, appalling fashion sense and whiney nature, but to Bobby's mind these minor failings were more than compensated for by the deep bond that had developed between them.

The kid had been dealt a shitty hand by the government over the past couple of years; the same government that had stolen his life and now had him locked away in some sterile environment, or doing God knew what.

Everyone had urged Hobbes to be patient, not to try anything impulsive, so he'd kicked his heels for a few weeks while The Official went back and forth to Washington to meet with his cronies. In the end though Claire's premature return to San Diego and pure frustration won out, and that's when he'd decided to get results the Bobby Hobbes way.

Borden was actually wrong when he'd told Bobby he wouldn't get further than the front gates at the Nevada facility. In fact, he'd gotten as far as the second security check point, where he'd stood his ground with a snot-nose army lieutenant demanding the right to at least talk to Fawkes, but of course the smirking bastard had denied he was even there. That little confrontation earned him an overnight stay in a cell definitely too small to swing the proverbial kitty cat and then removal from the area the next day, complete with military escort right up to the State line.

The Fat Man had bawled him out big time for that little escapade, but Bobby didn't care, making it perfectly clear that he had no intention of giving up on his partner, even if everyone else had. For the moment though his options were practically zilch…even Hobbes. net was coming up empty.

Entering his apartment he dumped the grocery bag and keys on the kitchen counter, before going to the refrigerator for an ice cold beer, sighing with pleasure as he took a long thirsty swallow.

"Hey Bobby."

The liquid caught in his throat literally mid gulp at the sound of that familiar voice. Hardly daring to believe, Hobbes turned a slow circle and found himself staring open-mouthed into Darien Fawkes' grinning face.

"Fawkes? What? How? When? "

"Hobbes, you really need to work on those longer sentences."

And there he was, just standing there looking well, incredible actually. He'd put on a few pounds but from what Hobbes could see it was all toned muscle and his clothes were stylish and tasteful, two words he'd never thought he'd use to describe the Fawkes wardrobe. And the hair! Where was all the hair?

Darien raised his hand for a high five and Bobby made to return it, but instead yanked his friend towards him hugging him tightly. And they stood that way for a long time until Darien took a step back, holding Hobbes at arms length to look at him with a mixture of amusement and genuine affection.

"Hobbes, are you crying?"

Bobby quickly rubbed the palm of his hand across his eyes. "Bobby Hobbes don't cry over nothin', and just you remember that buckwheat."

"I remember." And then softly, "Missed ya, man."

Hobbes nodded, struggling with his emotions again. "Missed you too smartass."

A noise from outside had Darien moving fast to the window, pulling aside one of the slats of the blind to stare nervously out into the street. Bobby walked across to join his friend, placing his hand on the small of his back.

"Hey relax big guy, I'm s'posed to be the paranoid half of this partnership." Doing a quick sweep of the street himself out of sheer habit.

Even without looking at him Hobbes could sense his friend's agitation, and his voice when he spoke this time had a troubled quality that was completely out of character, but it was almost as if he felt compelled to explain.

"They…they twisted everything Bobby. I didn't know what to believe, man they even made me think…you know! Ended up like I wasn't sure what was real any more, that's why I had to come here to see for myself, make sure you were …okay." Darien suddenly fell silent, not willing or able to bring himself to say more.

Though words weren't necessary; Hobbes caught the intent and grabbed Darien roughly, pulling him round to face him before he could turn away, one hand firmly on his friend's shoulder and the other clutching his face.

"Lemma tell you somethin', when I'm dead you're gonna be the first person to know cause I'm gonna come back and haunt your skinny ass. You got that?"

Darien gave a nod and then the ghost of a smile.

"Bobby, I'm gonna need your help," Darien said, running a hand over his weary face "It won't take them long to figure out where I am."

The response was immediate. "Anything partner, you know that. So, you gonna tell me what you've been up to and how you got here, or do I have to beat it out of you?"

Darien watched as Hobbes crossed to the refrigerator to retrieve two more Coronas, handing one to him.

"Uh, ya know," he advised casually, taking a long grateful swallow of the cold beer and then wiping the back of a hand over his mouth. "Killed me some people that the DoD wanted to question, which probably means I'm top of their shit list as of right now, screwed and then drugged my Handler, cracked the skull of the Incredible Hulk. And, oh yeah, the gland's got an evil little nano-buddy to keep it company."

"Is that all," Hobbes jibed incredulously. "So, by 'them' I assume you mean the DoD?"

Darien nodded. "Not to mention Ella Craven and Bruno Sartori."

Claire had mentioned both of these names to Hobbes, but he still stared at his friend questioningly waiting for him to elaborate..

"You remember," he pressed. "The brunette who snatched me, legs up to there." He pointed to a spot just below Hobbes' chin, not waiting for a reaction from his friend before continuing, "Anyway, turns out that she and Bruno, the man mountain who tried to brain you in my apartment, are running a DoD secrets and technology for sale scam, with me and the gland at the top of their shopping list."

"And you got away."

Darien nodded. "I got away with…this." As if from nowhere he produced the GS-2 canister. Hobbes didn't have to be told what it contained; he had seen enough bio-hazard warnings in his long career to know it was something bad.

"Are you nuts Fawkes," he yelped, taking a couple of steps backwards, glaring at his friend in horror. "Whatever that is, you have to hand it back."

"I know, I know. " Grinning a little at Hobbes' reaction. "I just wanted to make sure it got into safe hands. If you hadn't been…here, then Eberts was my next call." That comment surprised Bobby, who absently wondered why not Claire, but he let it drop as his friend continued.

"Thought about using it to cut a deal with good ole uncle Jonas, but the man has even less morals than the Fish, which is saying somethin', and there's no way I'm going back with it, not alive anyway."

"Okay, okay." Hobbes laid a calming hand on Darien's shoulder; he needed to think quickly.

"Seems to me that we have to get us some sort of plan."

"_We_…Bobby I can't ask you to get in any deeper…I thought you could just take the damn canister and then maybe get me a passport, some money…"

Hobbes looked suitably wounded. "Well, think again," he stated firmly. "Bobby Hobbes doesn't bail on his partner."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**

* * *

**

Chapter 7

The car pulling up directly outside the motel had Hobbes scrambling off the bed in an instant, gun in hand, cautiously peeling back the gaudy patterned curtain to check on the identity of their late night caller. A relieved smile crept over his face when he saw the familiar cascade of blonde hair as the woman climbed out of her SUV, nervously looking around the mostly empty motel parking lot before heading for their room.

Hobbes took a furtive glance to where his partner slept on one of the twin beds, bare feet dangling off the end. Fawkes had been out of it for a couple of hours now, the events of the past few days finally taking their toll on him both physically and mentally. But before falling into his exhausted slumber he'd relayed some of what had happened during his time with the DoD, up to and including the implantation of the nano-bug and the disastrous mission in Chicago.

_Bastards. _

He had some basic knowledge of the techniques they would have used to try to distance Darien from his old life; the not so subtle mind games played to work on the subject's fears - or in Darien's case his long ingrained insecurities. Standard, right-out-of-the-handbook tactics to turn an enemy agent, but not one of their freakin' own!

Well whatever they'd done they obviously hadn't broken his spirit completely, though somewhere along the way they had managed to turn Darien against Claire. Whatever unlikely story they had spun, in his vulnerable state he had believed them, which was why Hobbes had waited to put in the call. Whether Fawkes liked it or not, they needed her.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, he unlocked the door and pulled it open just wide enough for Claire to squeeze through and then poked his head outside to do a quick check of the immediate area, before closing it firmly and snapping the locks back into place.

"Are you sure you weren't tailed?" he whispered.

Claire threw him an indignant look, pushing a stray lock of hair back from her face. "Please give me a bit more credit than that Bobby. I've driven in circles for over an hour just to be sure. I wasn't followed, believe me."

Hobbes nodded not looking all that convinced, his inbuilt paranoia making him pull back the curtain for another peek outside just in case.

"These DoD mooks are sneaky Claire, that's how they got to Fawkesy in the first place, but they won't get past Bobby Hobbes again."

And then her arms were around him and she placed a kiss on the crescent shaped scar tissue on his head. After a moment she sniffed and pulled away, wiping a hand across teary eyes and casting an anxious glance towards the still form of her Kept on the bed.

"How is he?" she asked gently.

Hobbes shrugged. and was about to respond when he was interrupted by the sound of the voice, still croaky from sleep.

"What's she doin' here?"

"Think before you blow a fuse partner, " Hobbes warned soothingly, turning towards his friend. "You're screwed unless we can get that thing out of your head. I thought Keepie could also take a look at that," he prodded Darien's still open head wound, "before any more of your brain leaks out."

Darien pulled himself into a sitting position, scrubbing the palms of his hands across his face before gazing back up at Hobbes questioningly.

"And you trust her?"

That comment troubled Hobbes, but he didn't hesitate. Claire had proven her loyalty and come through for them both on more occasions than he could remember.

"With my life, don't you?"

"Not any more." The bitterness and distance in his voice was disturbing. Behind him Claire's breathing faltered at Darien's rejection, and she sank down heavily onto the bed opposite staring sadly into his dark eyes.

"Sweetheart, I swear I didn't mean to leave you there alone. They practically locked me out, I assume on the same night they implanted the nano-bug, but I've since been in contact with Wesley Carter and I know how to…. "

Darien's harsh laugh interrupted her words. "Oh, they did a lot more than just stick me with this freakin' nano-nasty. They also gave me some very interesting reading material to pass those long lonely hours… _Keepie._"

Inclining his head to one side he studied her with a weird detachment that made her heart skip a beat or two. "And just _when _were you planning on telling me that the gland can't ever be removed?"

There was a sharp intake of breathe from Hobbes. "Claire is that true?"

The heavy silence that stretched between them spoke volumes and was only broken by Darien, pinning her down with his steady gaze. "Oh it's true Bobby." He tapped the side of his head. "I've got my little roomie here for keeps."

"They gave you all of the research on the gland," she stated calmly, not bothering to wait for a response before continuing. "Darien I know you won't believe me, but initially I was only allowed access to a very small part of the QS9300 data, just enough to keep you and the gland in reasonably good health and to oversee the production of the counteragent. By the time they trusted me enough to give me access to the rest of the files…well, it was already much too late.

"When we brought Kevin back I thought that perhaps he might come up with something to negate my research, but in the end it was beyond even his capabilities. I don't think he could…live…with himself knowing he'd saved you from one life sentence and given you another."

"That still doesn't explain why you didn't tell him." Claire knew Bobby well enough to sense the anger and disappointment simmering below the surface. He was only maintaining control because it was her.

"I was ordered not to." Even to her own ears this sounded like a feeble excuse and she desperately needed them both to understand.

"After I went against orders and gave Darien Arnaud's cure, they weren't taking any more chances. I was warned in no uncertain terms that I'd be severely punished for any further acts of disloyalty,and they weren't just talking about my removal from the QS9300 Project or deportation believe me."

Glancing over at Darien she shivered at the hard expression on his face.

"I suppose their reasoning was that while you still clung to the belief that we were doing all we could to come up with a safe way to harvest the gland, you'd stay at the Agency. Without your need for counteragent it was the only means they had of keeping you."

Darien stood suddenly, ending up with his back to the door staring down at her.

"Jeez. What is it with all these freakin' secrets? Haven't I done enough for everyone to have just a little faith in me?"

"I've got faith in you partner, that's for sure."

Darien rewarded Hobbes with a grateful smile.

Somewhere off in the distance a car engine revved and Bobby twitched; his reflexes were on high alert tonight. He plopped down beside Claire on the bed and she was glad of the touch of his hand on her arm; at least he was ready to forgive her, unlike Darien who was still brooding. Not that she could blame him for all that he'd suffered since the gland had been implanted.

"So, what do we do now?" she asked tentatively.

"Me and Fawkes are gonna get out of the country if we can," Bobby answered. "I've got one of my contacts working on new ID's for both of us and we'll have them by morning. But in the meantime we need to find some way to get that little gizmo out of his head."

Claire nodded. "Dr. Carter has briefed me fully. He's sending me the chemical compounds for a neutralizing agent and as soon as I get back I'll start to synthesize a batch, it'll take a few hours but …"

"Why the sudden change of heart from Wes, after all he's the one who stuck this in me in the first place?" Darien's voice startled her, and she was dismayed to hear that it had lost none of its earlier acidity.

"Because at the end of the day he's a scientist not a torturer," she responded. "Wesley has worked very closely on QS9300 over the past few weeks, and he now realizes that the true way ahead for the project is collaboration… not control. Besides, I think he's become rather fond of you."

"Yeah, Fawkesy does have a way of growin' on people," Hobbes confirmed proudly.

Claire continued, "Wesley's keen to stay with the project but to do that he has to ally himself to the winning team. Word coming down from on high is that Spelling's days are numbered. He failed to identify Craven and Sartori as rogue agents even though they were operating right under his nose; and he's now mislaid a valuable piece of government property…you. " She risked a half smile in Darien's direction, adding as an afterthought. "And not forgetting the GS-2."

"Do you mean this?" Bobby reached down into his rucksack on the floor by the bed, and after a moment of rummaging through the contents produced the lethal black canister.

"Bloody hell!" Claire's face went ashen.

"You should take it," Darien added, earning a nod of approval from Bobby. "Put it out of harms way."

She got up from the bed. "Let me see to that," indicating his head wound. "And then I'd best get back to the lab. I've got a lot of work to do before morning."

* * *

Claire left them about a half hour later; GS-2 canister stashed safely in her black medical bag, with a promise to return as soon as she could with the neutralizer.

Even though he'd seemed to relax slightly with his Keeper and even allowed her to examine him, Darien's goodbye had been curt and he was back on the bed staring blankly at the TV screen even before she'd finished packing her things away. Bobby threw an admonishing look in his partner's direction as he escorted Claire outside to her car.

"Do you think he'll ever forgive me?" she asked softly, her eyes flickering back towards the prone figure on the bed as Bobby pulled the door closed behind them.

"Who Fawkes? Nah," Hobbes teased, immediately regretting his attempt to lighten the mood of the moment when he saw the dejection in her eyes. In the motel room she'd somehow managed to hold her emotions in check, but right then she looked about ready to burst into tears.

"Sure he will Claire, you mean too much to him," he soothed, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "Listen, the kid's been to hell and back…again because of that damned mass of gunk in his head, so right now he's scared and confused and lookin' for someone to blame…and Kevin ain't here."

She wiped a hand across her face giving him a sad little smile as she pulled open the door of her SUV. "I'm not so sure Bobby."

At that she embraced him quickly before climbing into her vehicle and driving off into the night back in the direction of The Harding Building.

Neither of them noticed the nondescript van parked on the corner of the street across from the motel. Inside two suited figures watched intently and as soon as Hobbes had returned to the room and closed the door, the man on the passenger side of the van spoke into the mic on his headset.

"Doctor Keeply has just left sir." He listened intently to the voice on the other end for a moment before continuing, "Two male occupants, one positively ID'd as Agent Robert Hobbes. We're certain the other one is Fawkes. Yes sir, understood. The team is moving into position now."

* * *

With pillows plumped up behind him Bobby relaxed back on the bed, closing his eyes but not allowing himself the luxury of sleep; that would have to wait at least until he got Darien safely out of San Diego.

They both recognized the risk they were taking, knew that they would probably be running for the rest of their lives. The government was hardly likely to give up its search for Fawkes, he was just too valuable and too classified. But it was a risk worth taking under the circumstances, particularly when the probable fate that awaited Darien was permanent residence in some high-security government research facility.

Fawkes had drifted off again, half way through an old black and white movie showing on one of the late night cable channels. The TV was still on but Hobbes had turned down the volume, finding the flickering images strangely comforting in the semi darkness.

He wasn't sure when he first heard them; just a soft footfall directly outside and a low murmur of voices, but in an instant Hobbes was off the bed and grabbing his gun from the nightstand, hissing at his partner to get up.

Darien shifted position, grumbling softly in his sleep.

"Fawkes, get up dammit. We've got company." This time the message got through loud and clear and Darien scrambled off the bed landing on the floor with a heavy thud, recovering quickly to crawl over and huddle with Hobbes below the window.

"Who are they?" Darien whispered.

Hobbes shot his friend a look of sheer disbelief. "How in hell should I know. You want me to go ask for a business card or somethin'?"

Then suddenly all hell broke loose.

The window above them shattered as an object came crashing through; both men dropping flat on the floor with arms covering their heads in an instinctive attempt to shield themselves from the falling shards of glass. As it impacted and bounced off the far wall, the small canister popped and began to emit a steady plume of a light green vapor.

Together. "Aw crap…gas!"

At almost the same moment the door collapsed inwards and half a dozen armed men, all wearing gas masks and thermal shades, stormed the motel room.

Choking against the effects of the cloying, overpowering substance, Darien and Bobby tried vainly to struggle to their feet, swaying unsteadily as they clung to each other for support. Then amid shouting and barked commands they were literally wrenched apart and shoved face down on the floor side by side, held there by the threat of several semi automatic gun barrels.

Darien flinched as his arms were cuffed behind him, the hot garlicky breath of one of his captors on his face as the man leaned in close to speak.

"Agent Fawkes, if you attempt to use quicksilver we are under orders to shoot Agent Hobbes, do you understand?" Darien just had time to nod as a heavy dark cloth was pulled down over his head. A muffled curse from Bobby confirmed that he was getting exactly the same treatment.

The next few minutes passed in a blur of activity as they were hauled to their feet and manhandled outside to the back of a van, where they were forced to lie face down on the cold metal floor, heavy boots keeping them in place. The door of the vehicle slammed shut with a gut-wrenching finality.

* * *

Hood and cuffs were still in place.

Darien's left leg and lower back had started to cramp painfully and he groaned, trying to shift position on the uncomfortable hard wooden chair which creaked loudly beneath his weight. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there but definitely long enough for other parts of his anatomy to start seizing up now as well.

He knew Bobby was close by, could hear his breathing, and from the sound of his labored little gasps was having about the same amount of fun as Darien beneath the smothering, claustrophobic shroud. Their one attempt to communicate when they had first arrived had been met with a harsh reprimand, accompanied by a sharp prod with the muzzle of a gun.

Now, any fear he had felt during their capture had long since been replaced by an overwhelming eagerness to get it all over and done with. He didn't really care who had them; the DoD, Craven and Sartori, hell it would even be good to see his old buds Arnaud or Stark if it meant he could stand up, just for a minute and… stretch.

Then footsteps were pounding a steady rhythm towards them. Their hands were suddenly released from the cuffs, the hoods removed; both Darien and Bobby squinting against the harsh glare of the powerful spotlight aimed directly at them.

A moment later a familiar bulky presence made itself known as it stepped into the bright arc of light.

"Welcome home boys," The Official said with an amused chuckle.

* * *

"Was that completely necessary?"

The fact that both the Fat Man and Eberts were making no attempt whatsoever to conceal their amusement was really starting to piss Darien off. Neither of them seemed the least bit bothered by the traumatized state of the two agents following their 'abduction', not when it had proven to be such good entertainment value.

Hobbes still looked dazed and shaky and dry swallowed a couple of his meds.

"We had no choice," Borden stated unrepentantly, carefully lowering himself into the chair immediately opposite them. "We needed to grab you before the DoD did, or before you both did something stupid. And let's face it, your track record for stupidity is pretty impressive."

Darien stared open mouthed, shaking his head in disbelief. Beside him Hobbes had recovered enough to speak for them now.

"You could've just asked us nicely?"

Borden let out another loud burst of laughter. "Ask _nicely_, that's a good one, eh Eberts?"

From where he stood, behind The Official, the mild-mannered assistant was doing a terrible job of masking a grin. "Yes sir, it's certainly something we should consider in the future."

"While we're on the subject of 'stupid'," Darien cut in sarcastically, "Just whose bright idea was it to bring us here?" He inclined his head slightly and motioned with his eyes around the Keep to make his point. "This is the first place they're gonna come looking."

"It was my idea," The Official advised happily. "And _yes_, it's the obvious place to search for you which is why I don't think Spelling or his lackeys will consider it, at least not for the moment. Besides, I've got guards posted around the building, if they show up we'll be ready."

Bobby looked impressed "We can afford guards now?"

"The Agency recently came into some, uh, funding Robert, from an unexpected source," Eberts said smugly.

"So, what's our next move Chief?"

"Wait, wait Bobby." Darien stood up quickly. "Aren't you even the slightest bit curious to know how they tracked us down so easily?"

"Well, yeah… I guess…Chief?" Bobby pursed his lips and looked enquiringly at the Fat Man. If Borden was daunted by Darien's towering form looming over him he didn't show it, just folded his hands across his sizeable paunch and stared back at them both with a satisfied smirk.

"That's need to know boys."

"Yeah, and this time we _really_ need to know," Darien countered, jabbing a finger at him. "If you found us, so can the DoD, and I'm telling you now I'm not goin' back with them no matter what sort of deal you've made."

"I've _never_ made a deal with them son." The sincerity of Borden's tone caught Darien off guard. "And who said anything about letting them take you back?" He half turned in his chair to look at Eberts, enjoying the moment. "Did you hear me say anything about letting them take him back Eberts?"

The young assistant shook his head, a warm smile touching his lips. "No sir, I don't believe I did."

Darien dropped back down onto his chair totally confused now, so was Bobby if his bewildered expression was anything to go by.

"But if…" Hobbes started.

"Have a little faith boys," the Official cut in. "Eberts!" He held out his arm and immediately his assistant was there tugging him up and out of the chair with some effort.

"Spelling's in deep shit for losing both the nerve agent and you. I'm going to offer one in return for the other. The DoD gets the GS-2 we get to keep…you."

"You think that'll work Chief?" Bobby cast a skeptical glance in his partner's direction; Darien didn't look all that convinced either.

"It'll work, if you've got the canister." He stared expectantly at his agents. "Do you?"

"Yeah…no…well we did…but now we don't," Bobby informed his boss. "We gave it to The Keeper for, well, safe keeping."

As if suddenly realizing that a vital someone was missing, they all gazed around the Keeper-less Keep then at each other, a sudden sense of dread settling over them.

It was Darien who broke the uneasy silence. "Aw crap. Please tell me she made it back here safely?"

"Eberts, check it out," The Official barked. "If she's still within range that tracking device we planted in her medical bag should lead us straight to her."

* * *

Darien lay back on the demented dentist's chair, watching his partner's relentless pacing back and forth across the lab as they waited for news of Claire's whereabouts.

It had been almost an hour since The Official and Eberts had left them. Darien had been ordered to stay put for his own protection, with two armed guards posted right outside the door of the lab. Bobby made the decision to wait with him for the moment or at least until they had a little more information to go on, but as the minutes ticked by the inactivity and feeling of helplessness was enough to make them both more than a little stir crazy.

The concerned look on Eberts' face when he finally walked back into the Keep, was all they needed to know that something was terribly wrong.

"We…we found her car abandoned two blocks from here." The young man's voice faltered slightly but he did his best to compose himself before continuing, "There was no sign of a struggle so we believe it was fast and very well executed. This has just been delivered…" He glanced warily at Darien, producing a folded piece of paper.

"It's a note from Ella Craven stating that if you and the trigger device are not returned to her by noon today, she'll not only kill Claire but will also activate the GS-2 in a public place, one guaranteed to result in a large number of civilian fatalities."

Darien wiped a hand over his eyes.

"Uh, Darien there's something else you need to know," Eberts began hesitantly, drawing in a deep breath. "Director Spelling is in The Officials office with a federal warrant for your immediate detainment…and a military escort."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The Official's patience was wearing thin. He'd been trying to maintain some degree of restraint ever since Jonas Spelling and his entourage had marched into the building unannounced. Now the man was strutting around like he owned the place, waving a damned federal arrest warrant as if it actually meant something to someone.

"I know Fawkes is somewhere in this building," Spelling ranted "Hand him over Charles." To make a point his eyes motioned towards the two uniformed and heavily armed soldiers who stood either side of the doorway, and there were plenty more of them outside - along with a DoD sweeper team.

Spelling continued his tirade and The Official groaned, raising his eyes heavenward.

"And when I find the treacherous punk he'll regret the day he ever double-crossed me. The Nevada facility will seem like a 5-star luxury hotel compared to where he's going next."

That was it, Borden finally snapped. He'd gone beyond reasoning with the man and had just about as much as he could take of his brazen posturing. Placing both hands on his desk he slowly and deliberately pushed himself to his feet, eyes narrowing to tiny slits as he glowered in Spelling's direction.

"Darien Fawkes _is_ here, but you can't have him," he growled bluntly.

Spelling took a couple of threatening steps in Borden's direction still brandishing his piece of paper. "I've got a warrant that says otherwise," he advised officiously.

"Well you know what you can do with it," the Fat Man countered nastily. "I'm not about to stand by and see one of _my_ people set up as the fall guy to cover your ass. The responsibility is yours and yours alone. Fawkes was just following orders."

Eberts, who had quietly slipped back into the office, watched the proceedings with a sort of detached amusement as his boss laid into Spelling. Everyone seemed oblivious to his presence as he picked up the phone on The Official's desk and tapped in a number.

"If you'd just had the common sense to run regular security checks on your 5-star rated agents, then you might have prevented this whole sorry mess. Now not only have you done what you accused me of when you _stole_ my project, ' misuse a valuable government asset', you've also allowed a lethal weapon to fall into the wrong hands."

"Speaking of which, I don't suppose _you _know who tipped off the Pentagon about the stolen GS-2?" Spelling asked sarcastically.

Borden feigned innocence, a sinister little smile twisting his lips. "Did somebody tip them off?"

Spelling had to admit to a grudging admiration for Charles Borden. The man had a reputation for fighting dirty and he had expected nothing less where the QS9300 Project was concerned. He knew that in all probability Borden had somehow gotten hold of the security file on the stolen GS-2 and had leaked the information at the optimum moment - which by some weird coincidence just happened to coincide with the disastrous mission to retrieve it in Chicago.

Now the situation was fast turning into Spelling's worst nightmare. He needed to make a pre-emptive strike if he was going to come through this with his reputation and status intact, and as far as he was concerned Fawkes was the key to everything. The sooner he had the I-Man back under his control, the sooner he could come up with a plan to secure the GS-2. One would inevitably bring him the other.

"This is getting us nowhere," he sighed. "I'm only going to ask one more time Charles. Get Fawkes here NOW or so help me I'll give the order to tear this place apart brick by brick if I have to."

"Yeah, you and whose army?"

Everyone turned at the voice from the doorway. Spelling's eyes widening at the sight of Bobby Hobbes, gun in hand, shoving a heavy-set DoD agent into the room ahead of him. Fawkes was only a step behind, grinning appreciatively at this partner's intended pun.

"Don't just stand there, take him," Spelling barked at the young soldier nearest the door, who immediately tugged a set of handcuffs from his belt and took a faltering step towards Darien. Hobbes' gun swung immediately in Spelling's direction.

"If anyone takes one more step towards my partner pal, I'll be forced to do somethin' that you are seriously gonna regret." His words were spoken in a practiced tone, making them all the more intimidating.

"Easy Bobby," Darien said smirking insolently at Spelling. "You don't wanna aggravate that 'permanent vegetative state' of yours."

Exasperated now Spelling decided to take matters into his own hands, grabbing the cuffs from the young soldier.

"I'd strongly suggest you advise Agent Hobbes to put down his weapon, and then turn yourself over without a fuss before someone gets hurt," he warned Darien unpleasantly.

"And I'd suggest, " The Official's voice boomed loudly across the mayhem in the room, "that you might want to take this call Jonas."

Everyone fell silent. Eberts helpfully held out the phone receiver to Spelling, who hesitated a moment before stepping forward, fighting to suppress a sudden sense of dread. Borden's smug grin did nothing to quell his fears.

"How dare _you undermine my authority."_

Within seconds the color had completely drained from Jonas Spelling's face, and he unconsciously straightened his posture as a mark of respect to the man who barked irately down the secure phone line at him.

"_Agent Fawkes and the QS9300 Project are under my special protection Director Spelling. And that means they're now completely off limits unless I order otherwise, am I making myself clear?" _

Spelling nodded mutely.

"_I'll expect to see you in Washington first thing to answer for your actions. In the meantime I'm putting my trust in Charles and his team to clear up your mess and retrieve the GS-2. And God help you if innocent civilians are harmed because of your gross incompetence." _

"Yes Mr. President," muttered a stunned Spelling as the call finished with an abrupt slamming down of the receiver at the other end.

Perfectly aware that he was the focus now for everyone in the room, he did his best to regain some composure, turning to the soldier who was still staring at him expectantly.

"Tell your men to stand down," he ordered, wincing inwardly at the delighted _whoops_ coming from Hobbes and Fawkes' direction.

He'd gone against Borden and his shabby little empire and lost, he was resigned to that now. But how different it would all have been if Ella Craven and Bruno Sartori hadn't betrayed him. All that was left now was for him to try to exit with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances.

"What about the money we paid for him?" He nodded brusquely towards a grinning Darien, who had his arm draped around Hobbes' shoulders.

"Ah, yes about that." It was Eberts' turn to contribute and he pulled a small calculator from his inside pocket and began tapping the digits quickly. "By our estimation… you owe us a further 2.5 million."

Spelling's jaw dropped in sheer disbelief. "How….?"

The young clerk didn't give the man a chance to respond. "Well sir, in addition to the 17 million, which is non-refundable, and your most generous donation for 'research purposes', the extra charges are for two and a half months rental of one of our top agents." He gave a half smile in Darien's direction, then leaning towards Spelling to advise in a stage whisper. "We've waved our usual fee for general wear and tear."

The Official patted his assistant on the back approvingly.

Jonas Spelling moved to the open doorway, turning back to glance at Darien and then meeting Borden's unsympathetic gaze.

"Everything I did was for the good of the project and our country Charles, you have to believe that."

The Official responded with a snort of laughter. "As far as I can see, the only good thing you've done is give Fawkes a decent haircut."

* * *

"Are you sure you wanna go through with this?" Bobby asked throwing a concerned glance in his partner's direction.

Ella Craven had called with details of the rendezvous point a short time before, and now they were huddled around the conference table in The Official's office studying a scale map of the area.

"No," Darien responded honestly. "But I don't see that I have much of a choice, do you?"

Hobbes shook his head soberly. Considering what was at stake, their options were practically non existent.

In just 2 hours he was supposed to hand his partner over to Craven and Sartori, and in return they would get Claire back and the general populace of San Diego would be spared the lethal effects of the GS-2 nerve agent.

He'd gone over every conceivable scenario in his head a hundred times already trying to find a way through this without risking Fawkes, but he knew that whatever plan he came up with Ella Craven had probably already countered it; she wasn't a 5-star rated agent for nothing. Even her choice of location was inspired; selected undoubtedly to emphasize the fact that she would have no qualms whatsoever in endangering innocent lives if it meant she got her prize…Darien Fawkes

Bobby checked his watch and motioned to his partner decisively. "Okay kid, if we're gonna do this we should get you kitted out. Ebes we'll need some stuff, headsets, mics…the usual."

Eberts was pleased to play his part. "Leave it with me Robert. Due to our recent good fortune, I've been able to upgrade all of our communications equipment. I believe you will both be suitably impressed."

Unfurling his long frame from the chair Darien stood ready to follow Eberts, only to find his route barred by The Official.

"Fawkes. I think you should report to the Keep and let Dr. Carter check you over before you leave."

Wesley Carter had turned up on the heels of Jonas Spelling, bearing the recipe for the neutralizing agent and an offer to do whatever he could to help until Claire was returned safely.

Darien regarded the Fat Man suspiciously. "Why?"

"Well, now that the doctor has chosen to join our team, I full expect him to oversee your day to day medical care, under the supervision of your Keeper of course."

"Like hell he will…" Darien started forward, calming slightly when he felt Bobby's hand on his arm.

"For once, can't you just do as you're told?" Borden snapped wearily. "At the very least let the doctor prescribe something to keep you alert for the next few hours, you look like you haven't slept in days."

He was right of course. Darien's last long stretch of quality, non-drug induced sleep had been back at the DoD facility in Nevada almost 72 hours previously. Since then he'd only managed to grab an hour or two here and there. He was running on pure adrenalin.

"Not a bad idea buddy." Hobbes was trying his best to diffuse the tension.

"As usual it's not me he's worried about Bobby. But…oh…hey…we're life partners now so…love me, love my gland. And that's something we really do need to have a little chat about some time soon."

Bobby physically placed himself between the pair his back to The Official and whispered, "Save it Fawkesy, now ain't the time."

"Don't believe everything they told you kid." The Official's strained tone of a few moments before was now replaced with a sort of empathy, that those who knew him would not have equated with the man's usual brusque temperament.

Hobbes saw his friend tense again and knew that he was a long way from letting it rest.

"Okay, so you gonna look me straight in the eye and tell me you can get this gland out of my head Charlie?"

The emotional intensity of his words was followed by a long heavy silence, until Borden abruptly turned away, walking back to his desk.

Darien stared after him impassively. "Nah, didn't think so."

He looked as if he desperately needed to say something else, but instead just shook his head sadly before turning quickly and leaving the office.

Muttering a curse Bobby went to follow his friend, until The Official called after him.

"Bobby, a word," he said, indicating that Hobbes should close the door.

"What's up Chief?"

Borden removed his glasses and began massaging his temples. It had been a long, stressful day and one that was far from over.

"I know Darien won't want to hear this right now, but what's happened to him…the gland…it really wasn't part of our agenda."

"Maybe not, but he's the one gotta live with it."

"Is that really so bad?" Borden asked earnestly, taking Bobby a little by surprise. "You and I have spent the best part of our lives fighting for this country of ours. We've both had to make sacrifices along the way."

Hobbes fidgeted a little as he fought to control a surge of anger. "Yeah, but we signed up for it, that kid didn't have a choice," he stated coolly. "All he can see ahead for himself now is a lifetime tied to one government agency or another, or dodging the De Fehrns or Cravens of this world."

His gaze shifted for a moment and when it focused back on The Official there was an intense sadness there, and with a voice barely above a whisper he stated. "At least before he had a little hope."

"There's always hope Bobby," Borden countered softly. "The Project is back where it belongs, and we've now got the resources to protect him properly."

"Protect Darien," Bobby didn't even try to disguise the cynicism, "Or your precious gland?"

Borden lowered himself carefully into his chair, running a hand across world-weary features.

"Believe it or not, I'd consider Darien an asset to this agency even without the gland." A wry smile masked his fatigue for a moment. "But if you tell him that I'll deny it. Can't have the punk thinking I actually give a damn."

Hobbes just stood there and stared at his boss, not quite sure he'd actually heard what he thought he'd just heard, so it took him a moment to realize that The Official was still talking.

"…the GS-2 and the welfare of the public are our main priority here, but he follows a close second. Once the nerve agent is secured I want you to haul him out of there."

"Don't sweat it chief. Fawksey's got no intention of spending the rest of his days with Cru-Ella."

"Dr. Keeply's safety is also paramount , but if it should come down to choosing between them…she would understand…"

"Don't even go there," Bobby cut in sharply. "Cause there's no way Fawkes will wanna come back without her."

The Official nodded soberly, not really expecting any other reaction from his agent.

"Which is why I'm putting my faith in you to bring them _both_ home safely Bobby."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

_Note to readers (if there are any out there). Okay, so I've taken a liberty here concerning San Diego Zoo. Not absolutely sure if their arachnid exhibit has a name or if, in fact, they even have one at all; I couldn't find it on the web site (which was a lot of fun to browse by the way). Anyway, did find a cute little piece for children on how to make a paper creaturer, and as the title was just too good to pass up have loaned it for this chapter._

_All will become clear…now read on._

**Chapter 9**

**San Diego Zoo**

Just like most typical weekdays during the busy summer months, the place was thronging with visitors from every corner of the globe. Groups of tourists posing for photographs to show their friends and family back home; small children chattering excitedly as they pulled the exhausted adults from one live exhibit to another.

Hobbes and Fawkes walked side by side as they battled their way through the crowds to the rendezvous point. Looking around at the carefree, innocent faces of these people just out for a day to enjoy themselves, Darien wondered idly what their reactions would be if they knew of the deadly threat hanging over them…probably mass hysteria.

Even with the large numbers here on this balmy day, their Agency 'back-up' stuck out like sore thumbs as they did their pathetic best to blend in; wearing their versions of tourist chic with standard issue federal agent shades. Their odd behavior as they 'shadowed' the two agents was more than enough to warrant concerned glances from the general public at large.

Hobbes' cell phone beeped and he flipped it open listening intently to the instructions, a frown creasing his brow.

"We're here," he announced pointing over Darien's shoulder, then watched as his partner turned, the color literally draining from his face as they stared across at the large modern building home to, as the sign announced:

_**The Itty Bitty Spider House.**_

"Man, you gotta be freakin' kiddin'," Darien muttered nervously, running fingers through his hair and then out of sheer panic over the back of his neck.

Grunting something, Hobbes started forward, Darien hesitating before finally dragging his heels behind his partner, tiny beads of sweat already forming on his forehead as he visualized the eight-legged, creepy horrors waiting to pounce beyond those glass doors.

The cavernous oval building had two levels, the second being a balconied atrium overlooking the lower ground floor, a vast safety net made to look like a spider's web hanging between. Large glass aquariums lined the interior walls with small plaques alongside, each showing a photograph of the creature contained within, along with detailed information for the interested visitor on its natural environment and eating habits etcetera.

In the center of the ground floor, a large group of giggling and squealing school children huddled around a zoo keeper with a Tarantula splayed on the back of his hand.

Darien began to hyperventilate.

He reached out to clutch Hobbes' shoulder, knees threatening to buckle with every step they took further into the den of hell. Hobbes mumbled something vaguely reassuring, patting his hand, while trying his best to mask a slight flicker of amusement.

The cell phone beeped again and this time when Hobbes answered it his eyes drifted up towards the atrium, Darien following his gaze to where Ella Craven stood at the edge of the balcony overhead,. peering down on them and smiling.

"Where's Claire, and where's the GS-2?" Bobby growled into the phone glaring up at her.

The woman started gracefully down one of the two metal and wood staircases, talking all the while.

"All in good time Agent Hobbes. First of all I believe we have an exchange to make, and then I'll tell you where you can locate the nerve agent and your sweet Keepie."

As they waited for Ella to join them, Hobbes watched his friend out of the corner of his eye. Darien was now unnerved and definitely not at his best, and actually looked ready to bolt. Taking small steadying breaths to control the quicksilver, which was probably threatening to put in a premature appearance, his hand was still firmly clutching Bobby's shoulder as his eyes darted to the aquariums containing the freaky, hairy monsters.

"This really sucks Bobby."

"I know kid, I know,." Hobbes soothed, patting the hand again for good measure.

Ella's eyes were on Darien as soon as she got within a few feet of them.

"Hello Darien, having fun?" She was smiling broadly, the irony of the choice of venue definitely not lost on her.

Hobbes risked a quick, concerned sideways glance at his ashen partner before turning back to the woman. "C'mon lady, let's get this over with," he growled, wanting to get Darien out of there as soon as possible.

Ella turned her full attention on Bobby now, studying him intently. The last time she had encountered Agent Bobby Hobbes had been in Darien's apartment and what she had seen then, albeit briefly, had impressed her. The self-assured, resolute man in front of her now definitely didn't disappoint.

"Of course. You first." She smiled, holding a hand out and wriggling the fingers expectantly. Hobbes paused, his own gaze burning into hers, then sighing he reached into the pocket of his pants for the trigger device and handed it over.

He spoke softly, his voice even but with an undertone of menace nonetheless, "Lemme tell you one thing lady. My friend has been through enough, so if you hurt him there won't be no place big enough or far enough for you and that hulk of yours to run. You hear what I'm sayin'?"

"I'll bear it in mind." If Ella was bothered by the threat she didn't show it, strapping the device around her wrist, all the while a faint little smile twisting the corners of her mouth, eventually turning her focus back to Darien.

"We're heading for the parking lot," she told him tersely. "Bruno's waiting and he's really looking forward to seeing you again Darien." The intent wasn't lost. "As long as you do exactly as you're told, I'll keep my part of the deal and give Agent Hobbes the location of your Keeper and the GS-2, plus the timer code to disarm the explosive it's attached to."

Darien nodded his understanding, exchanging one brief anxious look with Bobby as they followed her outside.

* * *

"Okay this is as far as you go Agent Hobbes."

Ella came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the parking lot, staring with barely concealed irritability at the federal agents posing as tourists following conspicuously in the trio's wake. "And tell your incompetent friends to pull out, or so help me I'll activate the GS-2 right here and now and to hell with the consequences," she snapped.

With an audible curse Hobbes spoke via the mic on his headset to the rank amateurs the Fish had insisted they bring along, even though Bobby had been adamant that he and Fawkes should handle this alone. Where the hell had they hired them; Find-a-Fed?

"They're backing off," Hobbes confirmed, watching with contempt as the hired help even did a bad job of pulling back as ordered, hovering in the near distance, still within their line of vision. However, this seemed far enough to placate Ella Craven for the moment.

"We're over here." She indicated across to a tan saloon, grabbing Darien's arm, only to find Hobbes stepping around her quickly to block her path.

"Ain't you forgetting somethin'?" he snarled, and was rewarded with a look of feigned innocence from the woman, followed by a slow sardonic smile. She pointed off towards a white transit van parked way across the lot and casually tossed him a set of keys.

"Dr. Keeply and the GS-2 canister are over there."

Hobbes still wasn't budging. "And the timer code?" he demanded.

"Four digits…think QS Project," she responded trying once again to pull Darien off towards the waiting vehicle. "It's set to detonate at 2.00pm, so you have just enough time to save the Ice Queen and the endangered species here at the zoo. I don't need to remind you that the bomb can still be activated by remote, so unless you have some way to evacuate the entire area I suggest you make damn sure we get a clear run out of here."

He wavered until Darien gave him a tiny strained smile, indicating towards the transit van. "I'll be okay," he assured not at all convincingly. "Go get 'em Bobby."

Then Hobbes was gone, running as fast as he could over towards the van.

When Ella pulled on his arm this time, Darien allowed himself to be led over to the car, his step faltering only when Sartori emerged from the front passenger side as they approached, an eager smile fixed in place on his heavy features. Ugly dark bruising covered the entire left side of his head. Darien gulped.

"Get him in the car." The engine was already running as Ella moved quickly around to the drivers side, just as Bobby's voice came urgently over Darien's miniature concealed earpiece; one of Eberts recent purchases.

"_Crap, Claire's not here. It's Plan B partner." _

Another shout went up from across the lot, and Darien half turned to see Hobbes and a dozen or more agents racing back towards them from all directions, weapons drawn.

Okay, so Plan 'A' had always been a long shot, and relied on Ella Craven having a degree of integrity, which she blatantly didn't, not to mention both the GS-2 and Claire being exactly where she said they would be. Once they were secured, Darien was supposed to go see-through and then wing it from there, working on the assumption that, 1) Craven and/or Sartori wouldn't be suicidal enough to release the GS-2 while they were both still within range of its deadly effects and, 2) in the event that Craven activated the nano-bug, Darien could hold out long enough for Hobbes to get to him.

Perhaps not their greatest ever strategy, but all they could come up with under the circumstances.

To Darien's mind though, Plan A was definitely preferable to Plan B, which meant he would probably now have to see this thing through the hard way.

Literally as Hobbes' shouted his panicked warning, Darien's in-built self-defense mechanism kicked in, subconsciously activating the quicksilver flow at the same time as Ella's fingers found the trigger device.

Caught off guard by the sudden severe explosion of pain, Darien was propelled forward to collide heavily with Sartori's chest, the quicksilver flakes dispersing immediately as the man's arm went round his neck and he easily hauled a stunned Darien the rest of the short distance to the back of the vehicle, slamming the door closed behind them.

As the car skidded out of the lot and sped away in a haze of dust and burning rubber, Darien raised his head slightly and caught a glimpse of Bobby's desperate face.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Montgomery Field Airport - 6 Miles North of San Diego (Abandoned Repair and Maintenance Hangar)**

Darien stood with feet spread apart and fingers laced behind his head, cringing as a leering Sartori patted him down; the man's hands lingering that bit longer than was absolutely necessary on certain parts of his body. As a precaution he'd quicksilvered the tiny earpiece; his only link with Bobby, and to his relief it remained undetected throughout the search.

Over in one corner, lying on what looked like a pile of dirty sacking was Claire, her hands and feet bound with duct tape. She wasn't moving.

The moment Sartori stepped away Darien moved quickly to crouch down at his Keepers side, fingers gently brushing aside strands of hair matted with dirt and what looked like blood from her badly grazed face.

"Hey, Claire."

She whimpered a little before opening her eyes, and Darien wished he could break someone's head for hurting her like this. Fighting to control his burning rage he spoke to Ella Craven, though not really expecting anything much from her after the double cross at the zoo.

"The deal was me for her."

"Well there's been a slight change of plan," she stated coldly. "Before we fly out of here, we thought you might appreciate the chance to get some pay back for all those horrible lies she told you."

Claire's bound hands reached up to grasp his sleeve, alarm in her eyes.

Before he had a chance to respond, to reassure her, Sartori grabbed a handful of Darien's collar and hauled him upright, pushing him roughly into the middle of the empty space. It was then that he noticed the big man held a small camcorder in his free hand, now pointed in Darien's direction.

"You're about to become famous," Ella advised with a hint of humor. "We thought we'd make a movie to showcase your…uh…special talents and prove that you will do as you're told with the right incentive. Maybe we'll send a copy to Bobby," she taunted. "So he'll have something to remember you both by."

The woman slowly circled Darien obviously enjoying the moment and when her hand reached out to brush his face he took a step away, knowing full well it would irritate the hell out of her. He met her gaze defiantly despite the knot of dread in his stomach.

She shrugged, seemingly oblivious to this rejection.

"He's certainly got the looks of a Hollywood heartthrob don't you think Bruno? But then it all really comes down to what sort of a performance we can get from him on the day. Hmm, now let's see..." Her tone was playful and Sartori chuckled appreciatively.

"Perhaps we should start with a little quicksilver display…time to show our customers why they'll be paying top dollar for you pretty boy."

As she was speaking Ella made her way across to Claire and bent down to slip a small penknife through her bindings, then spitefully grabbed a handful of blond hair to drag the still semi-dazed woman to her feet. Darien took a faltering step towards them, stopping dead in his tracks when Ella produced a handgun which she jammed into his Keeper's side.

"Uh, uh, just do your thing baby," she warned, twisting the gun against Claire's already tender flesh to produce a tiny yelp of pain.

"Darien…" Claire started.

"Shut the fuck up, Keepie," Ella hissed , and then sternly to Darien, "Don't make me ask again."

He nodded closing his eyes, seconds later the first silver threads appearing just below his hairline snaking downwards, then spreading and coiling rapidly to swathe his entire body until his shimmering form faded and suddenly disappeared from sight.

It was an impressive show and Ella sighed appreciatively, she would never really get used to the sight of the quicksilver in all its glory. A few minutes later the tiny metallic flakes tumbled from Darien's now very visible self and he was looking straight at her expectantly; this little demonstration was far from over, he could sense that something bad was coming.

"Well that should have them reaching for their check books." Sartori grinned, panning in with the camera so that the lens was just inches away from Darien's face. "Let's get some of that classic profile on film."

Ella released Claire with a hard shove that sent her stumbling right into Darien, his arms steadying and then encircling her protectively as she gripped him tightly in turn, trembling uncontrollably.

"You should never have handed yourself over to these…these monsters," Claire spoke quietly, casting a wary glance to where Craven and Sartori were huddled together in deep conversation, obviously planning something.

"Ssshh." Darien put a finger to her lips. "It doesn't matter now."

She stared up into those soulful eyes with the sudden realization that despite all the hurt she had unintentionally caused him, he would still willingly sacrifice himself for her. Sensing her mounting distress he planted a quick kiss on her forehead with a whispered, "Trust me."

"Now isn't that a sweet little scene?" Ella commented to Sartori acidly. "After everything the bitch and that Agency have done to him, he still wants to cling to his precious Keeper."

"Yeah, well I'd pick Claire over you any time," Darien stated flatly, his steady gaze meeting Ella's, and he couldn't suppress his own satisfied smirk at the flash of anger he got from her this time.

"That's your problem Darien, but you're just going to have to let go."

The gun was pointing at Claire again and Ella motioned for her to back away. When she was satisfied she turned her full attention on him once again, smiling as she placed the gun on the ground halfway between them.

"I want you to shoot her." Her words were all the more shocking for the casual way they were spoken. Claire gasped.

"Screw you," Darien retorted with a snort of disbelief.

Ella purred happily. "We've so been down that road baby."

Shrugging nonchalantly she continued with her game. "Well, it seems to me you have two really simple choices here. Claire's life… or Bobby's."

Tension was heavy in the air now as she waited for her words to penetrate.

"If I'd given Hobbes the right code for the timer he would have disarmed the bomb by now, but we wanted to make things a little more interesting for him. It's one of Bruno's specials." She smiled fondly at her friend. "A tricky little device, similar to the one you planted in Chicago, and you remember how effective that was?"

She savored the moment as the first real sign of uncertainty crept onto Darien's face.

"So, it's your decision Darien. The life of your Keeper versus good ole Bobby, and probably the entire civilian population at that zoo and, not to mention anyone else within spitting distance once the nerve agent is airborne. Women, children…panda… there hasn't been time to evacuate.

"You shoot her and I'll let you make the call to Hobbes with the correct code to disarm the device. It's due to detonate," she glanced at her wristwatch, "in ten minutes, so I wouldn't take too long to make your choice…tick…tick…tick."

He looked at Claire, fear in both of their eyes now.

With a barely perceptible nod of her head Ella Craven motioned for Sartori to put the camera back on Darien. It was time for his final scene.

* * *

Darien knelt down, his trembling fingers sliding hesitantly around the butt of the gun, turning despairing eyes on Ella. "Don't make me do this."

"You'll just have to live with your choice. Now pick up the gun," she spat.

"I…I can't," he said softly.

And then suddenly he was doubled over and crying out as pure agony ravaged his entire body, Ella stood over him, fingers stroking the trigger device. She'd only given him a fairly minor jolt, nothing too debilitating, but from their many sessions back at the DoD facility she was perfectly aware how far she could take things. Everyone had their breaking point and she would have no qualms whatsoever in pushing him to the brink to get what she wanted.

Claire struggled vainly to get to him but found her way barred by Sartori, so she knelt helplessly watching her friend's torment, quietly grieving for both of them now.

And then the pain was gone and Darien huddled there, breathing hard for a long time until Ella spoke to him again, her booted foot kicking the gun in his direction.

"Just do it Darien, or by God you'll have the death of Bobby and all those innocents on your hands…and I'll just shoot her anyway."

"Darien." Claire's voice was gentle and he turned towards her. "Darien, you don't have a choice sweetheart."

She pushed herself upright on unsteady legs until she was facing him, with Sartori moving in behind so that he could film Darien over her shoulder.

"In any case, I'd rather it was by your hand than either of these two scumbags," she stated defiantly, squaring her shoulders and pushing a stray lock of hair from her lovely face, determined not to show them how truly terrified she was. She could only hope that Darien would at least make it quick, not caring to dwell too much on his consistently lousy marksmanship scores on the Agency firing range.

Darien staggered to his feet, the gun now held loosely at his side. Claire noting that his expression was a little weird though, as if he wasn't really there with them for the moment and she thought that this was possibly one of the residual effects of the nano-bug. He looked distracted as if he was listening to something, head cocked slightly to one side. Then an odd thing happened - a tiny smile touched the corners of his mouth and as he raised his head to stare directly at her, she saw the fear and despair of a few moments earlier now replaced by something else.

"Claire do you trust me?"

She nodded numbly, thinking that maybe he could have picked a better moment to ask her a question like that.

"Good. Then I want you to do something for me when I tell ya," he continued.

Just at that moment the familiar voice crackled again through Darien's earpiece.

"…_Okay Fawkesy, I sure hope you're getting this partner… I repeat…it's an affirmative; the bomb has been disarmed. Had to do it the hard way cause the crafty bitch gave us the wrong code, but you gotta get up early to pull that one on Bobby Hobbes.. You and Keepie hang tough kid, the cavalry's on its way."_

Darien suddenly raised the gun with a remarkably steady hand aiming It directly at his Keeper's head.

"Claire…DUCK!"

Without hesitation she threw herself to the floor just as his finger squeezed the trigger. The sudden almost deafening blast filled the cavernous empty space as the trajectory of the bullet penetrated the camera lens dead center, going straight on through Sartori's right eye to embed itself in his brain, killing him instantly.

A split second after he fired the gun Darien dropped and spun, his legs taking a stunned Ella Craven's out from under her in a quickly modified version of a Ju Jitsu ankle throw, proving that not all of the intense combat training sessions with Sartori had gone to waste; the shocked woman crashed heavily to the floor.

Straddling her even before she had time to recover, an evil smile twisting his features as he grabbed for her wrists, he released the catch on the trigger device and took it off her for the second time in 48 hours.

"Nuh, uh,uh . Now why do I have to keep reminding you to play nice?"

The woman's face had contorted into an ugly mask of pure unadulterated hatred, as she thrashed about beneath him screaming in rage and frustration.

""If I ever get my hands on you again you're a dead man, do you hear me Fawkes?"

Claire crawled over to take a look at the hysterical, screaming harpy, currently pinned beneath her friend. "The only thing you'll be getting your hands on for the next thirty odd years sister, is the prison laundry."

"Keepie, would you?" Looking more than a little amused, Darien inclined his head down towards his hissing, bucking captive. "I don't think I can hold her much longer anyway."

It was Claire's turn to smile wickedly now. "Why Darien nothing would give me greater pleasure."

"Okay. On the count of one…two…three." He pushed himself up and backwards fast just as Ella tried to bring her knee into his groin, Claire stepping into the space he'd occupied a second earlier, swinging her fist to impact the woman's jaw with a satisfying crunch. Ella went down and stayed down.

Her Kept looked suitably impressed. "Hey, way to go Keepie."

Claire smiled thinly, blowing on her bruised knuckles. "Bugger, I think I've broken my fingers."

Darien gently took the injured hand in his, bringing it to his lips for a light kiss.

"Now all we have to do is wait for Bobby to come get us."

"But…how…I mean how will he know where to find us?" she asked curiously, not really understanding why Darien was now dangling the trigger device in front of her face.

"The nano-nasty also has a tracking signal," he explained with a slow grin. "All I needed to do was piss her off enough to activate it here so that Hobbesy could get a fix on our location."

"Which reminds me." Plucking the device from between his fingers Claire dropped it on the floo and brought her heel down as hard as she could, grinding until all that remained was a tangled mass of shattered plastic and metal parts.

Then their arms were around each other as they walked towards the exit, stepping outside into the afternoon sunshine to wait for Bobby.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Are you ready?" Doctor Carter asked, adding, "This may sting a little."

Seated upright on the old demented dentist's chair, Darien looked to his Keeper for assurance before giving a quick nervous nod. Claire squeezed his hand as he shifted slightly on the chair leaning his forehead in against her shoulder, the nape of his neck exposed and ready for the injection of neutralizing agent.

Hobbes patted Darien's back and folded his arms decisively, throwing a warning scowl in Carter's direction which dared him to even think about hurting his friend. With a wary sideways glance at Hobbes, the doctor began inserting the needle as gently as possible. Darien shut his eyes and tightened his grip on Claire's hand; the only outward sign of any discomfort.

A few moments later the empty syringe was withdrawn.

"Is that it?" Darien asked with an edge of relief and surprise in his voice, fingers tentatively probing the back of his head. Carter nodded, silently letting out the breath he had been holding for the last few minutes.

That was all Darien needed to hear. "Doc, thank you," he said sincerely.

Bobby's attention was still heavily focused on Carter, watching intently as the man busied himself with tidying away the various bits and pieces of medical equipment.

"So, what mischief do you boys have planned for the rest of the afternoon?" Claire's tone was teasing.

A grin spread across Bobby's face as he finally tore his gaze from Carter, turning to the lovely doctor with a warm smile in place.

"The bottomless pit here," he began, jerking a thumb in Darien's direction, "is craving a bacon cheeseburger, so we thought we'd go eat and then catch a movie or something."

"Hey, you try living on rabbit food for months and see how you like it," Darien whined, readying himself for the lecture from his Keeper about his health and making sure he ate the right things blah, blah. It didn't come; instead, Claire just shook her head in feigned disapproval, happy to let him off the hook on this occasion.

"You're welcome to come with us," Bobby offered, his arm draping itself around her shoulders. "Think about it. You, me, the back row of the movie theater…" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Claire giggled.

"While it's a very tempting offer Bobby, I don't think my delicate disposition would be able to cope with your particular choice of eating establishment." She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought. "I'll take a rain check. But maybe Wesley would like to join you…" All three of them turned towards Carter, who froze and gave a strained little smile when he realized they were staring at him expectantly.

"Um, that's very kind, but I have a few bits and pieces to finish up in the lab, and then The Official wants to see me. I assume it's about my Agency contract or something equally mundane. Another time for me too if that's okay?"

"Yeah, no problem, another time," Darien assured easily. "Just make sure you check the small print on that contract Doc, the Fish is one sneaky bastard."

"You got that one right partner," Hobbes exclaimed as he and Darien exchanged a low five. "Okay big guy, you ready to go purge San Diego of its entire supply of fast food?"

Darien rubbed his grumbling stomach, "Well now that you mention it, I am kinda hungry…"

Shaking his head indulgently, Hobbes shoved his lanky friend towards the door with Claire rushing to catch up and then lacing her arms through theirs. "I'll walk upstairs with you two dreamboats."

As the door to the Keep shut with a gentle whoosh behind them, Carter stopped what he was doing; his shoulders finally sagging under his burden of guilt.

* * *

"Hey stretch, wait up." As they exited the elevator Bobby planted a soft kiss on Claire's cheek then ran to catch up with his partner, who was already halfway down the hallway.

"I wanna ask you about Sartori. That shot was incredible. Have you been hiding something from me all this time partner?"

"Nah, just lucky I guess. I was actually aiming for his leg."

The response was too flippant and Bobby didn't look that convinced, but decided to let it drop…for the moment.

"Okay then hotshot, tell me how you really got off that plane in LA and away from Cru-Ella?"

"Ah Hobbesy, Hobbesy," Darien uttered with a world-weary sigh. "Let's put that one down to my finely honed CTS skills."

Hobbes stopped dead in his tracks, staring at his friend in wide-eyed disbelief.

"What CTS skills?" he yelped. "You never even sat the exam."

"Okay, so I read the handbook," he threw back, shrugging dismissively.

Hobbes looked smug. "Hey buddy boy let me tell you something', Bobby Hobbes don't need no CTS handbook to help _him_ with theladies. In fact, you could do worse than learn some of the ole Hobbes magic."

"Hmm, Hobbes magic. Is that kinda like black magic, where you have to put someone into a deep trance to get them to go on date with you'?" Darien threw an arm around his friend's shoulders as they continued their easy stroll down the corridor.

"You'd better freakin' believe it pal," Bobby was chuckling now as he suddenly launched into song, his voice surprisingly rich. "_That ole black magic gets them in my spell, that ole Hobbes magic that I do so well…"_

God she'd missed this. Claire stared after them; reveling in their affectionate banter, until Fawkes and Hobbes exited as one through the double glass doors at the far end of the hallway. Then with a contented sigh she spun on her heels, humming Bobby's song as she went.

TBC


	12. Epilogue

**

* * *

**

**Tag**

_In one of my all-time favorite movies, 'Babe', Farmer Hoggett says: "Little ideas that tickle and nag and refuse to go away should never be ignored, for in them lie the seeds of destiny." _

_I used to believe that everyone had a destiny, some predetermined route through life like the kind that made my brother Kevin a brilliant scientist and me…well, we all know how I turned out. But I guess what Hoggett is really trying to get across to his little porcine buddy, is that if as individuals we follow our instincts, then we have the ultimate power to control our own fate and prepare for those unexpected twists and turns along the way._

_So, if my temporary sabbatical with the DoD, or almost ending up in the clutches of Ella Craven did anything, then it gave me a glimpse of what my future would probably be like without the protection of ole Charlie Borden and the Agency. And, much as I hate to admit it, even with the lies and his talent for blatant manipulation, from now on the Fat Man gets my vote every time. _

* * *

**Epilogue**

Wesley Carter rapped lightly on the office door, entering cautiously a moment later at the gruff command.

The Official was staring at him over the top of his glasses, until his face gradually morphed into his version of a friendly smile with eyes disappearing alarmingly into the deep creases of the fleshy face.

"Ah, Dr. Carter," he said with a feigned cheeriness that made the scientist even more uneasy if that were possible. "Just the person."

The Fat Man turned slightly in his chair to speak to Eberts. "We can finish this later. The good doctor and I have a little …uh…matter to discuss."

Eberts eyed his superior suspiciously, but knew better than to hesitate when the Fat Man so blatantly wanted him to leave. Quickly and efficiently he gathered the papers from the desk into a neat pile and crammed them into a folder, nodding politely to Carter as he hustled past on his way out.

As soon as his assistant had left, Borden was up and out of his chair faster than Carter would have thought possible for someone carrying that much weight, opening the door a fraction to check the empty hallway outside. Only when he was satisfied that they had complete privacy did he shut it firmly, pressing his body against the hard surface for a moment before he turned his attention back to Carter.

"You have some good news for me I hope?" he asked directly, the affable mask of a few moment before already replaced by something that made the hairs at the back of Carter's neck stand on end. Borden was all business now.

Carter nodded, fiddling nervously with an object that looked like a small digital watch. The Official moved towards him holding out his hand expectantly, the doctor passed it over with a troubled look in his eyes.

"As far as Fawkes and his Keeper are concerned, you gave him the neutralizing agent?" he asked, not taking his eyes from the device now grasped firmly between his fingers.

"Yes sir, I administered the placebo as ordered," the doctor confirmed unhappily, and then added, "I must say, this is hardly the best start to building a trusting relationship with my new work colleagues."

The Official fixed him with a 'stare'. "Which is why they don't need to know. It'll be our little secret, unless, of course, you'd prefer that I withdraw my protection and hand you over for questioning about the entire DoD debacle?" Carter shook his head immediately; knowing he'd rather take his chances with Borden and the Agency.

Smiling slyly Borden continued, "Chances are that Fawkes will never do anything moronic enough to warrant us reactivating the bug or using this little trigger device, but if a situation calls for it we now have ourselves a new insurance policy."

Carter cleared his throat and fidgeted uneasily. "It's…it's just that I'm not sure this is entirely ethical…" his words were cut short by a cynical burst of laughter from the other man.

"Ethical, smethical. There's no such word in the Agency dictionary doctor, so just you remember that," A stubby finger pointed in Carter's direction. "Where national security and the QS9300 Project is concerned…_anything_ goes."

**THE END**


End file.
